Working Nine to Five
by megelizabethvh88
Summary: The daily adventures of a work environment through Neil's eyes as he deals with dueling Terrys, office romances, and far too much testosterone. M for Mature just to be sure.
1. Chapter One

**A/N**:This is just a warning that the story you're about to read contains mature content. It is rated so for language and strong sexuality. These are things that I feel are in everyday life and because it is in everyday life, it shouldn't be excluded from what we read. Also, I like to put these "characters" (real life people) and put them in this "everyone/most everyone is gay" universe, or the "the six members of Monty Python and their lovers are gay, everyone else isn't and they don't have wives or children" universe that I really, really like. And of course, some timelines may be a little different. This warning was written for you, the reader, to be prepared for what your eyes may seek, and thank you for taking the time to read my stories. So if you don't like it, then get the hell out of here.

Also, this story is completely one hundred percent dedicated to my muse, **kyliesmilie26**, for all of her encouragement and late night discussions. My dear – it's finally posted! :D

Sincerely, the author

* * *

><p><em>Monday, January 2<em>_nd__, 1970 – Neil starts his new job and is introduced to his new co-workers, all equally strange and unusual._

Neil had been unemployed for a few months, trying to spend time figuring out what he wanted to do with his life. Unfortunately, unemployment didn't pay as well as an office job. A friend of his worked in such an office and the friend suggested he come apply for a position. He wasn't sure what to expect, since he had heard stories from the friend that worked there. As he boarded the elevator and rode to the fourth floor, he thought of those stories – fights between co-workers that involved staplers and paper clip chains, an overly sexual secretary who had been caught under the boss's desk, sometimes an after work drink or two at the desk of the boss. The last one didn't sound too bad, actually…the elevator doors opened, and Neil made his way down the hallway to the office. Inside, a blonde woman was sitting at the desk in a blouse that wasn't closed up enough and she was filing her nails. _The overly sexual secretary_, Neil thought and adjusted his tie for a better first impression. "Good morning. I'm Neil Innes… it's my first day," he introduced himself. "Do I need to sign in, or will Mr. Potter – "

"Well, Mr. Potter isn't here yet, but he called and said that if you arrived before he did, then I was to show you to your desk and you could just entertain yourself," the blonde stood up and moved around the desk to his side. "Come along."

Neil followed her through the cubicles as she led him to his desk. He couldn't help but let his eyes rest on her moving backside, which was barely dressed in a short maroon colored skirt, and he covered up his smile by talking. "I didn't catch your name, miss," he called after her.

"It's Carol. I'm the secretary," she replied over her shoulder, and his eyes directed upward quickly. "If you have any questions, ask me –"

A man jumped out from around the corner, causing Carol to scream with fright from his sudden appearance and the angry look on his face. "Carol! Has Mr. Potter gotten here yet?"

Carol's hand covered her heart. "Damn it, Terry! Why do you always have to do that? Shit!" she groaned, turning back to Neil with a look of disgruntlement on her face and paused to calm herself. "Alright…Neil, this is Terry, one of – "

"Hey, hey, hey," Terry held up his hands to interrupt. "What have I asked you to call me?"

"I am _not_ going to call you that," Carol protested, but Terry gave her a look so serious, she groaned again. "Neil, this is 'Sir Terry, the number one in the office and the employee of the month for all eternity. There will be no one better than him'. Terry, this is Neil, our newest employee,"

Neil extended his hand to shake Terry's, who took his awkwardly. "Hello, Neil," his voice was serious. "I'm going to let you in on something – I am one of the top workers here in this office. In fact, I am _the_ top worker, so don't both trying to overdo me because any attempts will be oppressed. You'll just strain yourself and end up with a heart attack before you're thirty,"

"I kind of figured that…you know, with the whole 'employee of the month for all eternity' thing…even though eternity is more than a month, so I don't know – "

"Oh, well, I don't know, Terry," Carol looked mischievous, interrupting before Terry could start talking. "I hear that the other Terry has numbers very highly _again_ this month and that Mr. Potter has said he might get the award _again_,"

Terry scowled, his eyes glaring in disapproval. "That brownnoser…he would get it again, wouldn't he?"

"So…the reason you don't like this other Terry because he won an employee of the month award for three months?" Neil asked Terry, slowly turning to Carol. "That sounds reasonable…I suppose,"

"No, that's not _the reason_," Terry rolled his eyes. "He's thinks he's the best in this office. He's very arrogant, sneaky, loud, rude, pushy, and he has these terrible American manners. He uses his eating utensils oddly and he's always making that stupid paper artwork…oh, he _would_ get another employee of the month award…"

"That's just what I hear. Now if you'll excuse us, Terry, and if you'll follow me, Neil," Carol replied, taking her new co-worker by the arm and pulling him around Terry to continue on. "Sorry about him, but you'll just have to get use to his shenanigans. When Mr. Potter hired the other Terry, he sort of snapped. But everyone else is completely normal, I promise,"

"Compared to him, I'm sure they're just fine," Neil agreed.

Carol continued on to the next cubicle a few feet down, where inside were many sketches pinned up to the wall and a few papers scattered on the floor. There was a man inside, with longish brown hair and a smile peeking up in the corners of his mouth as he was carefully cutting pictures and arranging them _just so_ on another piece of paper that looked like a background. "What are you doing?" Carol put her hands on her hips, sighing with annoyance at the messy layout of the cubicle. "You better pick this all up before Mr. Potter gets in. I don't want to see you getting in trouble for arts and crafts instead of working,"

"It's okay," he told her, not looking up from the papers. "Mr. Potter told me that he wants an animation made for a meeting this week with some co-signers or a sponsor or something. He wants me to make a huge impression on this group, so I have permission to take time during work to make this,"

"How long have you been working on this?" Neil asked.

"For two weeks," the man responded, still not looking up. "Is Mr. Potter here yet?"

"I just said that he wasn't," Carol replied, turning to Neil. "This is Terry. He's been with us for almost four months now. Terry, this is Neil, our newest employee,"

Terry looked up from his work and extended his arm to shake with Neil's, a quick smile flashed on his face before he went back to work. "Excuse me for being brief, but I'd like to get back to work. The meeting is in two days and I didn't have much time to work this weekend,"

"I'm sure you're plenty busy with being the employee of the month for three months in a row," Neil said.

A groan escaped Carol when the welcoming smile turned into a sly grin on Terry's face and he continued pausing his work to sit back in his chair. "Did _he_ tell you about that? Good grief…I don't know what he's going on about. He's hated me ever since I started working here, and has had it out for me since I got the employee of the month the first time. I really don't know what to do about him, as I haven't done anything except be better than him. I can't help that,"

"Well, I'm sure he'll move on from this great tragedy,"

It was then that Eric, his friend who recommended he apply for the job, walked up to them, completely interrupting Terry when he exchanged a high five with Neil. "How's it going? Having a good first day?" Eric asked, chewing a large wad of gum.

"Eh…it's interesting," Neil shrugged. "I've only been here for about twenty minutes, and Carol has been showing me around,"

"Well, Carol, I'll take over from here. I'm sure you're really busy," Eric offered.

Carol's eyes rolled in response. "Oh, yes, because I have _so_ much going on. I can't possibly take more than five minutes away from my desk to get some socialization in. I suppose I'll go hideaway in the kitchen and make tea and biscuits all afternoon,"

Eric patted her back. "That's awfully generous of you, but that's not necessary. You can sit underneath my desk instead," he told her sarcastically.

"Oh, go to hell," was her retort, and she walked off.

"Come on, Neil. I'll show you around and get you acquainted with everyone else. Not that there's too many others for you to meet," Eric started to lead him away, but turned back to Terry. "See you later, Gilliam. Are we still on for lunch today?"

Terry shrugged. "Let me work more on this and I'll let you know, alright?"

Eric nodded in agreement and continued walking Neil away. "Okay, so you met Terry already, and you met Carol. Have you seen where the break room is? Who else have you met?"

"I have only been here for twenty minutes," Neil repeated. "I haven't seen anyone or done anything. And you should probably explain this ongoing feud between the two Terrys. I know you said there was competition between two of the people here, but you never said it was them, nor have you explained how ridiculous it is,"

"Oh, that? Trust me, there's nothing to explain _because_ it's so ridiculous. Gilliam started working here one day, and Jones didn't like him – easy enough. The only thing to do is take bets on which one of them will last the longest,"

Footsteps walked up behind them, and they both turned to see a dark haired man standing there with a few papers held in his hand. "Hello, Eric," he appeared to be very serious, his eyes looking at Neil as if he was watching him very closely. "I need you to sign a few of these for Mr. Potter…whenever he gets in,"

"Do you have a pen?" Eric asked, and one was slipped into his hand and he took the papers to sign. As he scribbled his signature where X marked the spots, the man next to him continued to look at Neil, who felt slightly uncomfortable under his stiff gaze. "Michael, this is Neil. He's my friend that I told you about, the one starting today," Eric introduced them distractedly.

Immediately, the glare softened and Michael became friendly. "_Oh_! So that is…he is…okay! I didn't know, I thought maybe he…well, you _know_…" he gave Eric a knowing look, which was returned with a disapproving look, and Michael turned his attention back to Neil and extended his hand. "I'm three cubicles away from Eric…but I guess I'll be moving down one since _you're_ here…"

Eric clicked the pen back together with such aggravation that he almost dropped it, and handed everything back to Michael. "Don't be bitter about having to move all your things,"

"Well…I was just comfortable," Michael replied, disappointment hinted in his voice. "I had everything organized…really, I'm not trying to complain, Neil, but I'm sure you can understand,"

"Oh, but I do," Neil agreed, glancing at Eric in confusion. "You know, you don't have to move your things on my account. I can take the – "

Michael shook his head. "No, I've already moved it all. Don't worry about it," he quickly flipped through the papers to make sure he had Eric's signature on all the right lines, then looked back up at them. "Well…I'll let you get back to what you were doing. I'll see you two later,"

Neil tried to act like he didn't notice, like he was looking elsewhere in the office. But he did notice that as Michael turned away to leave, there was a gaze caught between him and Eric, and that there was a slight smile on both their faces. As Michael walked away, Eric turned back to Neil to distract him. "I'm sorry, where were we?"

"We were talking about who else there is to meet," Neil said, his tone implying that he was not as easily distracted as his friend. "So is that the one who…"

They both glanced after Michael, who had stopped a few cubicles away and was talking to someone inside. "Uh…yeah…that's him," Eric replied, shifting uncomfortably. "We're…um…we're trying to keep things quiet about that, so…don't say anything to anyone, right?"

"Oh yes, I'm going to run around and tell everyone what you told me," Neil told him. "_Say, people I've never met before, did you hear about Eric and Michael and the awkward encounter they had in the break room during the Christmas party?_"

"Oh, shut up!" Eric looked around quickly for any witnesses to the comment.

Neil tsked, shaking his head. "Eric, I really don't know about you some days. You always get yourself into positions that you always need someone to get you out of, and I don't know if I can be held responsible for that if we're working together,"

"I know, I know. I've been trying to be good, but this one just sort of snuck up on me, and you know how I deal with surprises – "

A very tall, dark haired man appeared from nowhere, motioning toward them. "Eric, come on. Mr. Potter is on the phone for you,"

Eric groaned. "Shit. I bet this is about that report. Neil, I'll be back,"

He walked off, leaving Neil in the walkway between all the cubicles. He stood there thinking about how strange his day was going, and he had been there barely half an hour. Meeting five different people, all of which were doing different things and had very different personalities…he wasn't sure how to take in all this information, and was already thinking he needed to take a coffee break and have lunch. "Where did Eric go?"

Michael appeared at Neil's side, having dismissed himself from the conversation he was having. "The tall bloke came to get him. I guess Mr. Potter is on the phone for him,"

"That must be John," Michael told him, and an awkward silence began. "So…how far back to do you know Eric?"

"For a few years."

"You two are good friends then, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose,"

"So you two are…would you say…_close_?"

"You could say that,"

"How close?"

Neil looked at Michael, who was standing awfully close to him as he demanded about Neil and Eric's friendship. "What are you getting at? He's my friend, nothing more, so if you think we have something going on, you are wrong, _and_ I know about you and him and the Christmas party,"

Michael paused, taken aback by Neil's response. "You know about the Christmas party?"

"Yes, I know about the Christmas party,"

"…Oh, shit," Michael's face began to flush pink. "I…I can't believe he told you about that. I thought we both agreed to keep it between us. But I suppose you two are good enough friends that it would be discussed, although I haven't told _my_ closest friend. Well, I hope you don't think any less of me now that he's told you – "

"Well, he did…and no offense, but I really didn't want to hear about it,"

A pouting look crossed over Michael's face. "Was it that bad?"

Neil shook his head, although it was to cut off the discussion, but Michael looked as if he wanted to hear more. "It wasn't anything bad, honest. And I'd rather not talk about it here – "

"Well, if it wasn't bad, was it good? And how good? What did he say? It happened two weeks ago and since we haven't really talked about it, but apparently you two have, I'd like to know what he said since it does involve me, so start talking!" Michael pushed for more information.

It was then that Neil realized he was trapped between a cubicle wall and Michael, who was looking at him with intensity, and he really wished that Eric would come back and save him. "Well, he didn't really say much about it. But he did say that…uh…well, he said that…that he wouldn't mind doing it again…but he wasn't sure how you felt,"

Michael stood back, considering Neil's words and he appeared unsure of what to say next. "Did he…so he hasn't told you that…well, we've done it a few more times since then?" he finally spoke.

"Uh…no…this is the first I've heard of that,"

"Oh, sorry,"

"No, it's fine," Neil assured him. "I just didn't know that…all he said was that you two did some terribly naughty things in the break room. And honestly, if _you_ really want to know, then I'd suggest talking to him about what he wants to happen. It's better to find out now instead of letting things just drag on and it's not what either of you wanted,"

He kept his eyes open for Eric, hoping that he would be rescued from this inquisition soon enough. "I suppose you're right," Michael agreed quietly. "I'm sorry to put all this on you on your first day. It's not enough that we're busy training you, or that we have a huge phone meeting coming up, but I'm dragging you through my pathetic love life,"

"It's not pathetic, it's just…different," Neil replied uncertainly.

Michael sighed heavily. "It's pathetic, admit it…I'm just going back to my desk now…try to figure out what the hell I'm doing…"

"…And this is just the first day," Neil said to himself, as Michael walked off, shaking his head. "Maybe this was a bad idea to take this job. The post office might have been a better idea…maybe the pet shop, or the cheese shop."

* * *

><p>"You!"<p>

Neil glanced up from his desk, where he was filling out paperwork, to see the tall, dark haired man standing in the cubicle doorway, looking down at him. This man was indeed very, very tall. "Yes?" Neil asked.

The man stepped in closer. "You've been here for three hours and you're two cubicles away, and I have yet to meet you. I'm John," he reached forward for Neil's hand to shake; Neil introduced himself. "You're Eric's friend, right? So I suppose he has shown you around the office,"

"He's shown me most of it," Neil picked up the paper he was working on and showed it to John. "I hate starting a new job and having to do all of this. Can't they just put it all in with the interview?"

"What else would you do on your first day then?" John asked. He glanced back into the aisle that all the cubicles were attached too, then turned back to Neil and leaned close to him. "You're cool, right? I just bought some really great weed last night…you want to go smoke in the basement?"

_What?_ Neil thought. "You want to go smoke weed in the basement?"

John shrugged. "Why not? It will get another hour by, and you'll be nice and hungry for lunch by then,"

Neil was beginning to wonder what kind of work place this was. "I…um…sure,"

"Great. Come on."

They left the cubicle and went down the aisle, where Carol was standing on her desk to change a light bulb in the ceiling, still clothed in her short maroon colored skirt. "I've seen everything I need to see here…but I just don't know what to make of her," Neil told John as they passed through the office door.

John pushed the elevator button. "Who, Carol? She's seeing someone, you know. His name is Allen and he works at another office across town, comes from a very well-to-do family,"

"Yes, and I have a girlfriend who I've been with for three years, and we're living together, but I can _look_," Neil told him. "If anything, I would be looking to get married to my girlfriend, not to get _another_ one,"

"Lucky you," John replied as they entered the elevator; he pushed the 1 button. "I was with this girl on and off for a few years. She finally decided to move back home…turns out she wanted to start dating women,"

"You'll find someone. Give it time," Neil told his face, which was becoming more forlorn, and he had to change the subject. "What…what can you tell me about Mr. Potter? Is he a good boss?"

John paused. "Um…well, to be honest, I don't see him too much. I think he goes to a lot of meetings, lunches and boardroom meetings at other offices…I don't know, to be honest. We do our own thing during the work hours,"

_Well, shit_, Neil thought. "He sounds like a great boss."

When the elevator reached the first floor, they exited together and John led Neil to the basement door. Their footsteps sounded down each cement rectangle step to Graham, who was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. "What's he doing down here?" he asked John of Neil's appearance.

John raised his hand, a lighter held between his thumb and forefinger. "It's alright, Graham, he's cool. Aren't you?" he looked at Neil.

"I guess so."

Graham used his foot to turn over a small wooden crate and he sat on top of it. "Fine, but if we get in any trouble, it's completely his fault because he's new. And I will tell everyone that it's his fault,"

"I promise that I will take full responsibility for any trouble, although there won't be any because we never get in trouble for this," John took out a tightly rolled joint, paired it with the lighter, and handed it to Neil. "Guests first,"

Neil accepted the gift and fired up the end in a puff of smoke. "So do you two do this often?" he asked.

"I _wish_ we did this more often," Graham replied. "Can you imagine us being stoned all day, working? God – " he laughed. "Everything would be all fucked up,"

John accepted the joint from Neil. "We aren't the only ones who smoke, by the way, because everyone else does. Obviously, Eric does, but you knew that already,"

"It's very good. You'll have to introduce me to your guy and I'll buy off of him from now on. I go to this guy who works at the grocery store, and lately his stuff isn't very good,"

It was Graham's turn to smoke. "I should too, I think David would like it," he exhaled slowly and examined the lit end of the joint before lowering it to look at Neil. "David is my partner,"

"Oh," Neil responded uncertainly, his eyes turned to John, who gave him 'the look'. "Oh! You mean partner…_boyfriend_," he paused again. "Well, that is…that's just…fantastic?"

"Thank you," Graham replied and took another drag. "So which tree do you bark up, Neil?"

The joint was passed back to Neil. "I have a girlfriend…I think she wants me to propose to her soon though. We've been together for three years…I don't know if the timing is right though. I don't think I'm ready to get married,"

Graham shrugged. "So tell her that you're no ready. Don't propose," he said, as if the answer was obvious.

"It's not that easy, Graham,"

"What do you mean it's not that easy? Of course it is, I've done it. If she starts to bother you about it, then tell her to fuck off. See? Done!"

"Yes, but its expected of me – my family, her family, _she_ expects me to do that. It's like taking this job, I had to take it to support my future lifestyle. If I plan on getting married, I have to have a job and make enough money to ensure its possibility," Neil explained. "It's a lot of pressure on one person to make sure everything goes well. How did our fathers do it?"

John and Graham shrugged. "But the point is that you don't _have_ to get married. You don't have to propose if you're not ready," Graham continued.

"It's easy for you to say, being gay and all," John told him. "Your parents don't even know,"

"My mother does, she loves David. My dad…he'll find out one day," Graham's voice was quiet.

Neil listened as the two continued to debate, and he continued to smoke. He couldn't believe how good this was. The habit of smoking weed belonged to him since the age of eighteen, when he went to a club with friends and they snuck a joint in the men's room. It wasn't the worst thing he had done, despite his mother's assurance when she found out – fingering Valerie Greenburg under a blanket while her father was in the next room seemed to be a more terrible thing – and smoking weed at a party with his friends was how he met Eric anyway, so it worked out in the end. "It doesn't matter anyway, I'm not going to propose," Neil ended the debate.

Graham shrugged. "Whatever you think is best. I don't want to hear you crying about it later, about how you made the wrong choice,"

"Oh, shut up, Graham," John rolled his eyes.

* * *

><p>"Coming in here for lunch, Mike?" Eric asked as he passed his cubicle, Neil at his side.<p>

"Um, no, I…I have plans for lunch," Michael replied, not looking up from his papers.

Eric stopped walking and backed up to the cubicle entrance. "Really? Is it a lunch meeting with a client?"

Michael paused, then looked up to Eric. "No…not exactly,"

"…_Oh_," Eric realized what Michael meant, and he kept walking to the break room; Neil glanced between the two, and he followed Eric. "Well, that's just great, just fucking great. I thought we had plans, but I suppose he thinks he can just change them up whenever he feels like it,"

Neil watched as Eric took his packed lunch from home that was kept in the refrigerator and tossed it irritably onto the counter. "You know, you're getting to be very attached to him. It's just one lunch – you don't have to be jealous,"

Eric closed the refrigerator, forgetting that Neil's lunch was still in there. "He's eating lunch with Helen," the tone of his voice was disappointment.

"Who's Helen?" Neil went around Eric to re-open the refrigerator and collect his lunch.

"That's his wife."

Neil almost dropped his lunch, and straightened up quickly to glare at his friend. "_He's married_?"

Eric grimaced. "They also have a baby,"

"_Oh, Eric_," Neil groaned, the disappointment was in his voice this time. "That's terrible. You're both married, he has a kid, and apparently there is some big phone meeting in a couple of days. You can't be doing this! There is far too much going on,"

"Well, I didn't plan on this happening! I didn't think that this would ever happen between me and him…I mean, Neil, we got drunk at our Christmas party and…" he paused to bite his lip, and Neil looked at him curiously. In turn, Eric's eyes cast over the counter edge. "We did there, by the way,"

Quickly, Neil raised his hands, his lunch held in one of them, as he didn't want to touch anything that might have been touched by his two naked, sweaty co-workers. "On the counter?" he demanded; Eric nodded. "And I suppose neither of you bothered to wipe it clean afterwards?"

"It didn't cross our minds. We also did it on the table – started on the counter, made our way over to the table,"

"I bet it also didn't cross your mind to tell me that you two have been fucking since then as well," Neil pushed for more information. "Michael did tell me that."

"He said that? He's got a big mouth, that one," Eric replied, and Neil groaned. "Not like that…well, yes, like that, but I meant he talks a lot. He will really talk your ear off, so watch out for his stories, because he will go on and on and on.

The kitchen door opened and Terry G poked his head in. "If you want to do lunch with me, Eric, then you better come and eat at my desk. I don't think I can get away from this right now. Grab my lunch bag out of the refrigerator, will you?"

"Alright, we'll be down there in a minute," Eric told him, and waited for Terry to leave before turning back to Neil. "I know, it seems bad, but I do really like him. We've been close for awhile,"

"What about Lyn? She is your wife, after all,"

"…I really don't know what to do about her," Eric said, and turned to leave the kitchen and go to Terry's office.

Neil continued to follow him. "Are you going to tell her?"

Eric glanced at him over his shoulder, not just to look, but to make sure no one else was listening in. "Do I really need to? We're just having sex. It's not as if we're going to ride off into the sunset together,"

"You might want to let him know that," Neil said.

"I know, I know," Eric said in a whining voice. "I'm a bad person, I know!"

"Why are you a bad person?" Terry asked as Eric and Neil sat in chairs opposite him, not looking up from his work to the brown paper sack they brought for him.

A warning glance was sent to Neil from Eric, telling him not to say anything. "Nothing," he said to Terry. "How's the project going?"

Terry groaned, finally looking up to slap his hand down on his lunch. "I can't believe I allowed Mr. Potter to talk me into this. There is no way I'll have time to do this and my other work and my home life…should I tell him that I can't handle all of this?"

"Oh, no!" Eric laughed. "What would Terry say about that?"

"…Fuck," Terry groaned, and took out his sandwich and chewed a large bite out of it. "Thanks for coming in here, you guys. I wouldn't be able to eat without the interruption," he paused to swallow his bite of sandwich and he dug out a large banana from the bag. "I thought Mike was eating with us,"

Neil looked at Eric out of the corner of his eye, seeing how disgruntled he looked. "He was," Eric muttered.

"He made other plans and broke their lunch date, and now Eric is upset," Neil told Terry.

Eric glared at him, and that was when a brunette woman stuck her head into the cubicle, appearing slightly out of breath and she balanced a small blonde baby on her hip. "Excuse me, but do any of you know where Michael is?" she asked politely, turning her head to look back down the hallway.

Neil could also see Eric tense up slightly, his mouth drawn into a scowl at the sight of her. "He should be at his desk," Terry said through a mouthful of sandwich, almost losing a piece of his lunchmeat. "How are you, Helen? Is Tom getting to be too much?"

_So this is Helen – Eric's rival_, Neil thought. He casually looked her up and down, examining her pretty face, short haircut, the plain skirt she wore paired with a dark blue blouse and brown shoes. As far as he could tell, there was nothing wrong with her and he could see how a girl like this could catch Michael's eye. She probably stayed at home with the baby, kept the house clean, had dinner on the table between five-thirty and six – she looked like she would be a typical perfect housewife. However, Eric still looked tense.

"Oh, you know how children are," Helen was saying, shifting the baby on her stomach. "Tom is trying to walk, and he's been doing this thing where he's putting anything he can get in his mouth – " her words were cut off by Neil making a snorting noise into his hand. It was terrible, but when Helen said that, all Neil could think of was what Eric said earlier about Michael having a big mouth – _in that way_. He attempted to cover it up by coughing and clearing his throat, but he was still smiling when Eric looked at him curiously; he winked at his friend, and Eric glared at him when he realized what Neil was getting at.

"Sorry," Neil coughed once more.

Helen looked at him, then reached into her purse in search of a bottle for her baby. "Are you a new client?" she asked the inside of her purse.

Eric was still glaring at Neil as he answered. "This is my friend Neil, he just started working with us today. Neil, this is Helen…she is Michael's wife,"

"Hi," Helen leaned into the small room and extended her hand to Neil, who stood from his chair and shook her hand.

Michael came into view and he paused in the doorway when he saw all who was in the cubicle. "Hello, Helen," he greeted his wife. "What are you all doing?"

Helen pushed the baby into his arms, then handed him the bottle and adjusted her purse strap on her own arm. "I was just talking to you friends. Carol wasn't at the desk, she's probably…under someone else's desk, or _whatever_. I didn't know where you were so I stopped here, and we've been introducing. But I'm going to use the bathroom, and I will just see with you at your desk. It's a pleasure to meet you, Neil."

He could see Eric casually looking at Tom in his father's arms. In a way, his lover was grateful that the boy didn't look like his father. Michael's own eyes were on Eric, who in turn was watching him as the baby settled comfortably against his father's chest. "I'll see you all later," Michael finally dismissed himself, and left the group for his cubicle.

Somehow, Terry had missed all of it. "So what do you guys think?" he spun his work around so they could see it. "Think Mr. Potter will like it?"

Neil looked at him strangely, not believing that Terry had missed the awkwardness of Michael being trapped between his wife and child and his sex. "Honestly, Terry – " he started to say, but stopped himself. "It looks good. Really, very nice,"

"Okay," Terry smiled at the compliment. "Eric? You think it's good?"

"Hm?" Eric looked at them, distracted. "Oh, um…it's really good, Terry. Potter will love it."

Terry looked to him concerned. "What's wrong with you? You need a smoke, don't you? Just have a cigarette until you go home, and then you can smoke the real good stuff. Here, use my lighter," he held his lighter to Eric over the papers on his desk.

Eric lit a cigarette and leaned back in his seat. "What's this about a phone meeting today? Neil heard about it, told me. Why wasn't I told?"

Terry groaned. "We're suppose to have a phone meeting today with a member from corporate around one or two, something about customer service, dress codes, some call backs on products we've sent out, some other bullshit topics,"

"We have a dress code?" Neil asked. "I was told suits and ties by Potter,"

"That _is_ our only dress code, unless they've changed it," Terry replied. "I use to work at a company where your shirt color and tie length changed every other week! I have twelve bowties – twelve!"

Neil laughed. "You should wear them more often,"

Terry glared at him. "Are you kidding? Why the fuck would I wear one of those here? I might as well wear suspenders, big black framed glasses, and a pocket protector with it, and put a 'kick me' sign on my back,"

"You Americans are so weak with your bullying," Eric told him. "Back at the school, the other boys – "

John stuck his head into the cubicle. "A warning to all of you, the phone meeting got moved from one until two-thirty, so we all need to be in the meeting room then,"

"What?" Terry demanded. "I'm still working on this damn project. Can't we do it next week, or any day that isn't today?"

"That's what Mr. Potter told Carol and she told me to tell all of you," John replied. "So two-thirty, you need to be there,"

Eric crumbled up his brown paper lunch bag and threw it into Terry's garbage bin, which was already full of paper scraps and background pictures. "Will Graham be sober for the meeting this time? I'd hate to see what happened at the last one take place again,"

"I can't make any promises," John replied, and left.

Terry's forehead pressed to his desktop with a _thud_! and he groaned. "I might as well just give up on this. When will I be able to get this done? It's practically not worth finishing, and anyway, what is Potter going to do? Not give me employee of the month for the fourth time?"

Neil turned to Eric. "What is everyone's obsession with employee of the month?"

"The employee wins a lovely little trophy – " Eric's voice was sarcastic as Terry gestured to the shelf on the wall behind him, where three small identical trophies were placed, all with his name on them. " – and they get to have lunch with one other person in the office, at any restaurant of their choice within the city limits,"

"That's it?"

"That's it, and yes, it's fucking stupid."

* * *

><p>At two-thirty, all seven men were gathered in the meeting room. Graham was awake for it, as he had promised, but he had a flask lying on the table next to his papers. He sat at one end of the table – to his left was Terry G, Eric, and Michael; to his right was Terry J, John, and Neil; an empty chair sat at the opposite end of him. "Do I need to sit in on this?" Carol asked from the doorway.<p>

"Are you doing anything else?" Graham asked.

"Nothing that can't be done tomorrow," Carol replied simply.

"You might as well then, until Mr. Potter gets done with his lunch meetings," Graham gestured to the empty seat.

Carol sat at the table, a notepad and pen before her, as she had set them up for Mr. Potter beforehand. Neil discreetly glanced to his right, where Carol had her hands clasped delicately on top of the table._ She's got a nice pair_, Neil thought to himself as he saw the curve of the side of her breast under her left arm, and he smiled to himself. "And you two better play nice during this meeting," Carol's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I don't want to see any paper clip chain fights. _Again_."

"We'll be good," Terry G said, his voice distracted as he slowly cut around a person from a picture. "I'm too busy to fight today anyway,"

"Too busy kissing Mr. Potter's arse, are you?" Terry J glared at him across the table. "Working on your arts and crafts during a meeting…"

"It's a phone meeting, Terry. There won't be anyone here to see me working on this. In fact, I could sit here naked and they wouldn't know unless someone told them," Terry replied.

John cleared his throat to interrupt. "It doesn't matter, because this is a pointless meeting. We all know what to wear to work, how to act towards each other and clients, and any call backs aren't our fault. We just have to call all the clients and let them know. And Graham, don't spill your drink on Terry's work,"

Graham looked at John defensively, and he argued back; Neil glanced up at Michael and Eric, planning to get their attention and talk to them about – _oh_! But he couldn't, not when they were so deep in their conversation together. Eric's arm was over the top of Michael's chair and they were whispering quietly, as if in their own world. Neil glanced around, unsure as to how no one else could see this little love affair was going unnoticed. "Neil?"

"Hm?" he looked to his left at John.

"I just dropped my pen between our chairs. Could you get it for me?" John asked.

"Sure," Neil pushed his chair back and bent forward under the table. The pen was just off his left foot, but there were two things that caught his attention. The first one – he could see between Carol's thighs, which appeared freshly shaven and there was a bite mark just below her crotch, which was covered by bright white cotton panties with blue polka dots over it. Blue might just become Neil's new favorite color, and he wondered if that one dot was right over her special 'dot'. He was shaking his head in disbelief at the discovery he had made when the second thing caught his attention – Michael's hand was on Eric's crotch, and it wasn't just resting there. His fingers were cupped around what Neil assumed was an erection, since he (as a man himself) got them at the most inopportune moments, and assumed that most other men had the same problem. However, it didn't help when someone was touching you and encouraging it, and that was when Michael's hand began to move slowly. Neil's eyes widened and he sat up, but his head smacked against the underside of the table. "Ow!" he groaned and saw Michael's hand move away quickly – indeed, Eric had an erection. "_Oh, fuck_!"

"Neil, are you alright?" Carol's voice was worried when he sat up. "Poor thing, hitting your head,"

Her hand touched the top of Neil's head, and he felt warm from her touch, wishing it would move down south more and she would move her fingers over him the way Michael was touching Eric. "I'm fine, but thank you," he told her.

The kind smile on Carol's face was distracted by the Terrys talking at the other end of the table. "I was just trying to give you some friendly advice about your work, and you just tried to bite my head off! What is the matter with you, Gilliam?"Terry J demanded.

"Friendly advice?" Terry G repeated. "You haven't said anything close to friendly to me since the day I started. What did I supposedly do to make you hate me so much? You are one of the most difficult people I have ever met, and I haven't done anything to you. Or are you just so much of a lonely miserable bastard that you have to pick on someone with the same first name as you? Terry, what is wrong with you?"

Everyone looked from Terry G, who had the most aggravated look on his face, to Terry J, who looked completely surprised by the other Terry erupting like that. No one had seen him react like that, for he was always so calm and cool; he had never raised his voice, not even in jest. Finally, Terry J cleared his throat and shuffled around some of his papers. "I was just trying to help you, that's all," he said in a quiet voice.

Silence fell over the room again, and the tension thickened with the passing moments. Someone had to do something to break it up. "…Anyone want to hear a joke?" Neil spoke.

* * *

><p>It was almost four when the phone finally rang then, in the middle of the table. They had all been sitting in their seats, tension finally gone with Neil's terrible joke and everyone started talking, complimenting Terry's animations, making dirty jokes about a girl one of them had gotten with, the usual discussion. "Should I get it?" Carol asked after the second ring.<p>

"Go ahead," Graham gestured to the phone.

Carol leaned over the table and picked up the phone, placing it between her shoulder and the side of her face. "Hello?" she spoke into the mouthpiece. "…Oh, hello, Mr. Potter…no, they haven't called…why not?..._oh_, you're joking…they'll be disappointed…alright then, I'll tell them…goodbye."

Another pause was suspended in the air when Carol hung up the phone and sat back down. "Well?" Graham finally said. "What did he say?"

"Well…" Carol twisted her lips nervously. "Mr. Potter asked if corporate had called, I said they hadn't, he said that they wouldn't because the phone meeting is being moved to two-thirty of next week,"

A round of irritation went around the table and Carol felt herself cringe. "Are you serious?" Terry G put his glare on Carol. "I brought all of this stuff out from my desk – it took me almost twenty minutes – and there's no meeting and I have to take it all back?"

"I'm sorry, boys," Carol told them.

They all groaned and swore at corporate, collecting their papers and getting up from their seats to go back to their desks. "This is bullshit," Terry J muttered as he left the meeting room. "Almost got my head ripped off and then no meeting…this fucking office…"

Carol sighed as the room emptied out. "I'm sorry this hasn't been a very good first day," she told Neil.

He shrugged. "Eh…I didn't have any expectations. I had hope that I wouldn't staple my hand to anything, and so far, I've succeeded. And the day is almost over,"

"You're doing fine," she touched his arm reassuringly, and took her notepad and pen back to her desk.

Neil started out of the meeting room, but realized that there were two people still at the table. He looked over his shoulder to see Eric still sitting upright at the table, with Michael leaning against him with his head on Eric's shoulder; Neil came around the table to find Michael was asleep. He remembered seeing him yawn several times during the wait for the phone call, not thinking too much of it, but apparently the wait had become too much for him and he began to doze on Eric's shoulder. Eric glanced up at Neil and he tried to hide the smile that was growing on his face. "How's your first day going?" he asked.

"It's been a very interesting day," Neil replied. "How is your day going?"

Eric looked at the top of Michael's head and smiled. "Not too bad…not a bad day at all."

* * *

><p>The day was finally over. Neil left the office and took the elevator down to the fourth floor, and walked out to the parking lot. Everyone else was coming out the door and getting into their cars, like he was, like every other person who was working nine to five every day, ready to go home to their families and their houses, all lined on the street like little boxes, little boxes on the hillside...Carol was on the other side of his car, as hers was parked next to him. "I made it through the first day," he said to her.<p>

She smiled at him. "I knew you would. That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Neil shrugged. "It was alright, I lived through it. I suppose we'll just see what tomorrow brings,"

"I suppose so," Carol replied. As she turned to her car to unlock her door, Neil stood on his toes to look over his car at her. The jacket she wore was just enough to cover the bottom of her skirt, which still barely covered her backside. "Goodbye, Neil."

"Bye, Carol," he smiled to himself, relaxing his toes to lower back to his normal height and continued searching for his car keys. There was something about that girl, he couldn't quite put his finger on it –

Eric suddenly appeared next to him. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Jesus, Eric! You scared the shit out of me!"

"Well, maybe if you weren't too busy looking at Carol, then you'd notice other things going on,"

"Like how I noticed that you and Michael were – "

He interrupted himself when Graham passed them, waving goodbye with the flask in his hands. They waited until he had passed them enough before Neil started to speak again, but Eric interrupted. "I have been hearing from a few sources all day that you are quite interested in looking at Carol. What happened to you and your lady? Finally decided to have an office affair?"

Neil gave him a look. "No, I'm not doing that, I can't handle two people at once the way you can,"

"It's quite a talent. Thank God I have two hands," Eric smiled. And in perfect timing, Michael came out the front door, one hand carrying his jacket and the other searching in one of the pockets. He sent a friendly smile towards the pair, and wink went directly to Eric who returned it with his own. "Well, I'm off then. I have to go pick up a few things before I go home,"

"No, you're not," Neil told him bluntly; Eric looked at him inquisitively. "You're going to meet Michael somewhere. You've been doing this for the past two weeks, suddenly having to go off and 'run errands' and other things, and I finally understand what is going on and I know you're not doing any of that. So stop lying and tell me the truth – you and Michael are going off to fool around like a couple of worked up teenagers,"

Eric paused. "Well, Neil, I _am_ going to go pick up a few things, but then I _am_ going to meet Michael somewhere so we can fool around like a couple of worked up teenagers. Probably up by the abandoned slaughterhouse outside of town, it's usually very quiet and we can just stay in the car – "

"Oh, ew! _Ew_!" Neil squeezed his eyes shut, as if to block off any visuals, and he sighed. "Just...just promise me that you two will be careful. Alright?" he waited for a response; Eric nodded, looking rather serious, which Neil appreciated. He didn't want anything to happen to his friends, especially when he knew about it and could be held responsible. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, if you can even walk into work properly,"

"We will see," Eric dismissed himself.

Neil got into his car and started the engine, turning the radio to the proper volume and he watched Eric get into his own car. Michael's left and turned onto the road; Eric's followed and went the same direction, and Neil sighed. "One day down, another thirty years to go," he muttered, then backed his car out of the parking space and drove home to his girlfriend, his cat, and his ideas of what life was about.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	2. Chapter Two

A/N:This is just a warning that the story you're about to read contains mature content. It is rated so for language and strong sexuality. These are things that I feel are in everyday life and because it is in everyday life, it shouldn't be excluded from what we read. Also, I like to put these "characters" (real life people) and put them in this "everyone/most everyone is gay" universe, or the "the six members of Monty Python and their lovers are gay, everyone else isn't and they don't have wives or children" universe that I really, really like. And of course, some timelines may be a little different. This warning was written for you, the reader, to be prepared for what your eyes may seek, and thank you for taking the time to read my stories. So if you don't like it, then get the hell out of here.

Also, this story is completely one hundred percent dedicated to my muse, **kyliesmilie26**, for all of her encouragement and late night discussions. My dear – it's finally posted! :D

Sincerely, the author

* * *

><p><em>Tuesday, January 10<em>_th__, 1970 – The office has a memorial service for John's cat, Pickle, and holds it in the yard, after spending the day planning the event._

Being a Tuesday and all, one of the most normal days of the week, Neil found that it started out pretty well. He woke up before his alarm and had time to stretch across the mattress, relaxed and well rested, the cat sleeping along his side. He was able to shower, eat breakfast, read the paper, smoke a carefully rolled joint, watch some ridiculous early morning cartoon, and have sex with his girlfriend in a position that they had never done before – he was having a very good morning. Even traffic was good on his way to the office. He was a firm believer in karma, despite his mother's idea that it was God that had your good and bad fortune planned out, and he wondered what good he had done to deserve a day like that. "Good morning," he greeted Michael and Terry G, who were standing in the parking lot, talking quietly as he approached them.

"Morning," they responded.

"Are you two waiting for me?" Neil stood with them, pausing to do his tie.

Terry glanced towards the elevator, then back to Neil. "We are actually waiting for everyone who comes through. We're letting you all know before they go in…Pickle died last night,"

Neil paused mid-knot. "Who?"

"Pickle," Michael repeated. "That's John's cat, the one that he has a picture of on his desk. He's had Pickle for twelve years, and last night he died,"

It seemed that everyone in the office had a cat, and the death of one was like the death of a child. Neil could only imagine how upset John was. "_Wow_," Neil said quietly. "That's awful…where is John?"

"He's at his cubicle. Graham is drinking with him to make him relax," Terry said. "So we're going to try and keep everyone nice and quiet today, no stupid jokes or bullshit today,"

Neil nodded in agreement, and Michael and Terry separated for him to go through. Halfway to the elevator, Neil stopped and he came back. "What did he do with the cat, by the way?"

Both of them looked at Neil over their shoulders, casually glancing at each other, then back to the parking lot again. Something about the way they looked at him made him feel uneasy, and wanted to push for more questions, but he decided against it and took the elevator up to his work floor. The office was peaceful when he came inside – a little too peaceful, in fact. Carol was at her desk, marking appointment notices away cheerfully at the typewriter to send out to clients. "Morning, Carol," Neil greeted her as he passed her desk.

"Morning, Neil," she replied, pausing her fingers just above the keys. "You did hear from the boys downstairs, didn't you?"

"I did, and I won't say anything," he replied.

"Alright, I just wanted to make sure," Carol glanced towards the cubicles and pressed her lips together nervously. "Just walk right past his desk, don't say anything at all to him or look at him. Don't look him in the eye, Neil. I swear if you do, then you will unleash a side of John that you have never seen before,"

Neil paused. "What side of John is this?"

Carol glared at him. "Don't even think about it. Just go to your desk and start working. If he comes to you and asks you for anything work related, just stick to that subject. If he starts to tell you about Pickle – "

"I think I know how to handle someone when they've lost a pet, Carol," Neil interrupted. "I know that you all have known John for much longer than I have, but they're all the same. You just let them cry and they'll talk about the pet and how much they will miss them and how much they love them, and everything is good. He'll probably have another cat in another month,"

"…Oh, you're right, Neil. You really know how to handle this," Carol's voice dripped with sarcasm, and she turned herself back to the typewriter.

He could see that she felt like he took her for an idiot and was going to ignore the advice she gave. "I'm sorry, Carol, I wasn't – "

"No," she replied. "You go right ahead and talk to John, Neil. Go ahead and look at him, act like you're interested in Pickle. By the way, that was the first pet that he bought since moving out on his own after college. He's had that cat since it was a baby, twelve years ago. That cat has been through everything with him, even when he was dating that girl and she moved back home to be a lesbian,"

"Hm…" Neil paused. "John has a thing for _lesbians_…"

Carol rolled her eyes. "The point is that you need to be careful with John today. He's very upset about it, and I would appreciate it if you didn't act like such a cock when I try to advise you,"

Neil was trying to not laugh at how serious Carol was. "Well, I'm sorry. I'll be more sensitive to your emotions when you're giving me advice,"

"Damn right you will," she smirked at him, and dismissed him with her next words. "Have a nice day, Mr. Innes."

"Thanks, Carol," Neil turned away from her desk and entered the aisle were the cubicles were. There was no sight of Graham at his desk, so Neil assumed he was in the next one with John – he was accurate. John was sitting at his desk with Graham perched as elegantly as a…well, as a cat…on the edge, both of them smoking, quiet as…well, as death. In John's hand was a bottle that Graham was gently nudging him to drink, as if to send him into a drunken spiral so he could forget everything going on. Neil crept past the doorway – quick, hurry, John is looking! He jumped ahead and moved on tiptoe to his cubicle, where he slid into his seat at his desk and sighed with relief. There, that wasn't so much of a problem – Neil had done it, it could be done. John hadn't said a word to him and he managed to not look his depressed friend in the eye – "Neil, did you hear about Pickle?"

John had managed to sneak past Graham and was trapping Neil in his cubicle. Neil remained with his hands on his desk and his eyes on the cup full of pens. _Don't look him in the eye_, he kept thinking. _But he mentioned the cat! What do I do?_ "John, did you get all the papers from your new client filled out? Because I got one in yesterday that has a similar situation – "

"Did you hear about Pickle?" John repeated himself, leaning lazily against the doorway, his saddened eyes on Neil.

_Oh, fuck_, Neil thought to himself. "Yes, I heard about Pickle. I'm really sorry,"

John pulled out his wallet and opened it, searching deep amongst the credit cars and papers for something. He then found it and handed Neil a picture – it was of John, twelve years earlier, with a small black kitten in his hands. "That was Pickle the day I got him. I had just been broken up with by a girlfriend…not the lesbian one, another one…and I was feeling very lonely, and I happened to walk by the pet store – " he paused, press the curve of his finger under his nose, sniffling. " – and there was this little, itty bitty, _tiny_ thing in the window. And he was leaning against the window with his paws, and he looked at me and…I just couldn't leave him. You understand, don't you, Neil?" he asked; Neil nodded. "He's been the best thing to happen to me,"

"I'm sorry, John," Neil said. "I know how hard it is to lose a pet. I use to have this dog – "

"A big sloppy dog is nothing compared to a cat," John interrupted snidely.

Neil paused. "No, they're not and I understand that – "

"There will never be a dog to outdo Pickle, never. Don't even think that," John told him angrily, shoving his wallet back into his pants pocket. "Pickle was a good cat – he never damaged furniture, peed on my things, or bothered anyone. A dog would have jumped on a person when they came into the room. Pickle had manners!"

It was easy to see that Carol knew what she was talking about earlier when she said that John was going to show a side that Neil had never seen before. "John, I'm sure that nothing can top Pickle, nothing at all. I'm just saying that I understand how hard it is to have a pet that you love so much and to lose them because I've been there. I use to have a dog, this brown, shaggy mess of a dog that my dad brought home one day. We had this dog for fourteen years, and not too long ago, he got really sick…we had to put him down,"

"So you understand then," John replied. "You know how difficult it can be."

A throat cleared in the cubicle behind them, and they both turned as Terry J was looking at them over the wall. "We had a cat that my mother had gotten before I was born. He was this orange striped thing, big paws and his tail was broken off. Not sure how that happened, maybe the previous owner did it…and if they did, I'm sure that has to do with why he acted so mean. I swear to you both, that cat was evil! That damn thing would hide on top of bookshelves and dressers, once in the kitchen pantry, and it would jump on your head and cover your eyes with its paws. He would crawl under the sheets with you and scratch up your legs and feet. He would vomit on my pillow when I was at school!"

John sighed. "Is this story relevant?"

Terry gave him a look. "I have a point, I promise. We're getting there,"

"Then make it."

"Alright, my point is that when he died, my parents were very upset, and my brother was too, and for a moment, I did think 'oh thank God, I won't have to deal with that cat anymore'. And then, I'd walk around the house and wait for him to jump on me, and to bite and scratch, and torment me, and it was gone. I actually missed that damn cat,"

Neil wasn't sure how to ask, but he did anyway. "John, what did you do with Pickle's body?"

John, who was clearly touched by Terry's story, turned to Neil with wet eyes. "Well…that's the thing…I couldn't leave his body at home, all stiff and gross…so I put him in a box…which is in my car…"

"Pickle's body is in the car?" Neil repeated. "Oh, God, John, your car has to smell _disgusting_! Go get it out of there,"

"And where is he going to put the box, Neil?" Terry demanded. "In the office? The bathroom? How about here at your desk, in your filing cabinet?"

Neil groaned. "Well, we could put it in the freezer, or someplace cold to keep it from rotting,"

Terry grimaced. "In the freezer? Neil, you have to be joking. It's going to develop some sort of fungus, or a gross disease that will kill all of us. What are we doing with the body after its frozen?"

Ignoring Terry, Neil looked up at John. "You know that Pickle wouldn't want to be stuck in a shoebox in the car all day. Give him the final hours he deserves. You can bury him when you get home,"

"You don't think that anyone will mind him being in the freezer, do you?" John asked them.

"I think everyone would understand," Neil cut off Terry's words. "Go ahead and get the box and put it in the freezer,"

John turned to leave, but stopped and looked back at Neil. "Thanks, Neil, I appreciate the support."

"Sure," Neil nodded. John left to go get his car keys and retrieve Pickle's box. Neil glanced up at Terry, who was giving him a dirty look. "What?" he asked.

Terry sighed. "When we get some sort of mouth infection because all of us had food that was contaminated by dead cat disease, I'm telling everyone it's your fault,"

Neil sighed. "Fine, I'll take full responsibility. Now, if you'll excuse me – "

Terry interrupted again. "No, you don't understand how gross that is. Everyone will be pissed off when they find out there is a dead cat body in the freezer, making it smell like a ladies dirty vagina and giving our food a weird taste,"

"If this was you, wouldn't you like for someone to tell you the same thing?" Neil asked. "Wouldn't you like some sort of comfort after your pet died? We'll just label the box with '_don't touch'_ and he will take it out at the end of the day. No one will know,"

"I hope no one knows," Terry disappeared back behind the cubicle wall. And honestly, Neil hoped so too.

* * *

><p>At precisely four after twelve in the early afternoon, there was a loud "<em>What the fuck<em>?" that echoed through the office. Neil lifted his head in surprise, then lowered it and sank back into his chair with realization.

"Someone found Pickle," he muttered, and pushed himself up and made his way to the break room.

Carol glanced up at him as he passed by. "What is going on in there?" she demanded.

Neil shrugged, acting as if he didn't know. "I'll find out," he volunteered, pushing the door open to find Graham standing in front of the refrigerator with a shoebox in his hands. Upon arrival, he realized that the freezer wasn't doing a whole lot to prevent Pickle's rotting smell from escaping the box. "Hey Graham," he greeted slowly.

"Who put a dead cat in a box in the freezer?" Graham demanded in a loud voice.

"Graham, could you stop yelling?" Neil asked in an annoyed whisper. Someone was bound to hear…

Graham looked at him with a disapproving look on his face. "Does anyone have any idea how unsanitary this is? This needs to be burned!"

"It's just for the day. John put the box in the freezer to keep Pickle's body from rotting, but it doesn't smell like it's helping," Neil's face was twisting as the smell of dead cat body continued to creep past his nostrils.

"You have to be joking," Graham looked at him baffled. "You can't put a dead animal body in our break room freezer, that's…well, it's disgusting,"

"I promise, it's just for the next few hours. What else is John suppose to do, let the box sit in his car all day and rot in the sun? He would have to get a new car to get rid of the smell,"

"He needs to bury it soon, because it's not going to make it the whole day,"

"But he can't leave right now. Where would he bury Pickle?"

Graham shrugged, and that was when they realized _where_ they could bury Pickle. "Are you thinking the same thing as me?" he asked.

Neil gestured to the box. "Go find a shovel, I'll grab John, and we'll meet you in the lot out back,"

They separated – Graham with the box of dead Pickle held under his arm, walking past Carol who clearly could sense the stench from the look on her face; Neil off to find his co-worker. John was at his cubicle, a small framed picture of Pickle in his hand. "Oh, hey Neil," John put the picture back quickly and wiped his eyes, trying to make himself appear normal. "What can I do for you?"

"Come on," Neil reached for John's arm to pull him to his feet. "We can't leave Pickle in the freezer, as Graham found him and said it was unsanitary. So we thought we could bury the box in the back lot…Graham is looking for a shovel right now,"

John paused. "Bury Pickle in the back lot?"

Neil could see that John wasn't so sure about the idea. "John, you know that he wouldn't like to be trapped in a shoebox in a freezer all day. He would want to be buried properly, to rest peacefully,"

"Then why can't I wait to bury him at home?" John asked.

"Again, it's not sanitary. And we can't leave the box out because it smells," Neil replied. "So come on, you should be the one to do the honors,"

"Neil…I can't do this not now. I'm not ready to put Pickle in the ground," John told him. "Not now…you see…I want to bury him in this velvet lined wooden box I have. I want pictures of him, someone playing music, and…and I want to make a speech. I want to talk about the years I spent with Pickle, and how important he was to me,"

It was rough to see John, a man so tall and strong that Neil had become close to, become so weak within moments. "Well, let's go get this stuff," he said. "Come on. Where is it?"

"The box? It's at home,"

Neil gestured for John to follow him. "What are you waiting for? Get your keys and we'll go. We don't have a whole lot of time, so let's get going,"

John looked at him in disbelief, and then it cleared away and he grabbed up his car keys and jacket and they left the cubicle. "Where are you two going?" Terry G was coming down the aisle towards them.

"We're going to John's house to get things for Pickle's funeral," Neil explained. "Come with us, if you're not doing anything…just come with us anyway, we might need the extra hands,"

Terry didn't have to be told twice; he tossed the folder back onto his desk, grabbed his jacket, and followed them. They gave a brief wave to Carol as they passed her desk, leaving her looking after them as they walked out the door, and took the elevator to the bottom floor and went to the parking lot.

* * *

><p>The trip to John's house took place in Terry's car, which was rocking back and forth slightly down the road with the vibrations from his radio. Neil didn't mind it so much, but he could tell that John wasn't as into it. Upon arriving at his house, John practically jettisoned himself from the passenger seat and went into his house. "Do you think my music bothered him?" Terry looked into the backseat at Neil.<p>

"I'm sure it did," Neil replied, opening his door.

They followed John up the front walk to the door, and he let them inside. The house was small and cool inside, and it appeared very clean and very up to date. "You have a nice place here," Terry said, shutting the door behind him.

"Thanks," John started walking through the house to the sitting room. Terry and Neil followed, examining every detail as they walked, since they had never been there before. Everyone knew that John had a very particular taste, and everyone was intrigued by the thought of what his house might look like. "I put away all of Pickle's things in a box, which is in my room,"

"Is there a lot?" Neil asked.

"Err…"

The box containing Pickle's items held a pillow that the cat had loved and slept on, the tins of cat food and the bowls that had once held the food, various cat toys, and lying on top was his cat collar. Neil could see John looking away and he gestured for Terry to pick up the box so John wouldn't have to. "What pictures do you want to take?"

John sniffled, then began to take frames off the dresser. Neil helped him, and they carried everything out to the car. On the way out, John grabbed a small, dingy blanket that he held in his lap. "What's that?" Terry asked, turning the key in the ignition.

"It's the blanket that he used to sleep on when he was too small for the pillow."

The sniffling started again as they left the street and Terry desperately wanted to turn up the radio to cover it up. But he couldn't, as he had to be supportive, so he left it alone. Neil also wanted the volume turned up, but focused his attention on the clouds in the sky – "What?" he heard Terry say something, but he couldn't make out any real words.

"I said I use to have a cat," Terry repeated. "This cat had all kinds of colors on its fur, white face, brown and black body, orange here and there all over. It had the longest, skinniest tail that would just float off her body…and one day, my sister started getting sick. My mother was convinced that my sister was allergic, and that we had to get rid of the cat. So we gave her to the neighbor, some old lady who already had probably thirty cats. I knew ours would get lost in the crowd, so I would go over there, every day after school and make sure that she ate. And about six months later, I came home to find there was an ambulance and the man from the pound…the neighbor had died, and the city was taking away all the cats…including ours. I never saw her again."

John looked completely mortified. "Oh my God…"

"Yeah…I think about that often," Terry kept his gaze ahead on the road, a look on his face that appeared to be deep in memory.

"I want this to be nice. I want to have a nice funeral for Pickle, so that everyone can truly appreciate him," John squeezed the blanket tighter in his hand. "I want for everyone to always remember him,"

Neil reached forward to touch John's shoulder. "That's nice, John. Do you have a speech prepared?"

John shook his head. "No, not yet. I'll work on one when we get back to the studio."

Usually, when planning a funeral (for a human), there was a lot to think about. At least with a cat funeral, all one had to do was dig a hole, drop the box in, cover it up…at least it should have been like that, but instead, it was turning into a fiasco. Thankfully, Graham had the hole dug and was waiting in the parking lot for his friends. The box that held Pickle was next to the hole. "It's all set," Graham gestured to the box when the trio walked up to him with the shrine artifacts. "It was a little difficult to dig, with the ground being so cold and hard, but I did get it. Shall we do it now?"

"John wants to write a piece about Pickle and reflect, and then we're going to have everyone come outside and do the burial," Neil explained.

"Ah, good," Graham picked up the shovel and they went inside. "When will we be doing this then? Because it's almost one-thirty, and I have a client calling today – "

"I'll let you know," John pressed the elevator button and the doors opened.

Up on the office floor, Neil and Terry took everything to John's desk, then gave him time to write in silence. Neil and Terry decided they would go around and ask everyone to come up with their own little piece about Pickle as John had requested. And how good his timing was, as Carol was walking back to her desk and sat down, putting her purse on the desktop. "Carol, what are you doing now?" Neil approached her casually, putting his hands on her desk to lean over, just to catch a glimpse of her knees under her short skirt –

"I am reading up on our company policies," she held up the booklet and smiled cheerfully at him. "Or, if you want me to be completely honest, I am preparing to tweeze my eyebrows. Would you hold the mirror for me?"

The hand held mirror was pushed into his hand grasp before he could answer, and Carol began to pull small blonde hairs from her brow. In Neil's opinion, her eyebrows were just fine. "We're going to do a funeral for Pickle in the back lot soon, and John requested that everyone have a few words written down about him,"

"About Pickle?" Carol's eyebrows raised as she inspected them, turning her head back and forth, feeling the curve with her pointer finger tip, not looking at Neil.

"Yes."

"Like what?" she glanced up at Neil casually, her eyes on him now.

"Like whatever you think is appropriate to say about the cat, I don't know,"

Carol put down her tweezers. "Yes, I will do that. Just let me finish this, and I'll get started on that. Poor John, having such a hard day. I hope this doesn't happen again soon to anyone of us. You know, I use to have a cat myself when I was a girl. She was the prettiest cat, all white and very fluffy, very long fur, and I spent many, many hours brushing her. And then one day, she got out and my father was leaving for work and he backed – "

Her eyes were widening with the intensity of the story, beginning to tear up, and as adorable as she looked when she was sad, Neil had to stop this. So he handed back the mirror quickly, breaking Carol's concentration on her childhood story. "Thanks, Carol," he said, then dismissed himself quietly and went off to find someone else.

However, Terry had already found everyone else playing cards in the meeting room and explained the situation, and everyone else didn't think it was such a good idea. "Neil, you realize the flaw in that request, don't you?" Eric asked him.

"No, I didn't realize there was a flaw. What is it?"

"Well, how about the only person that has been inside of John's house, anywhere near Pickle, the dead thing that we're supposed to write about, is _Graham_?"

This was a thought that hadn't crossed Neil's mind. "What? Only Graham?" he turned to look for Graham, to make sure this was true, but he wasn't in the room. "Where is he?"

"Um…" Terry J lay down his cards suddenly and stood up, looking pink in the face and excited about it. "I…I have to go, I just remembered, there's an errand…" he couldn't finish his sentence; he was so excited, and he left quickly.

"Now what was that?" Neil asked; everyone shrugged. "So you're telling me that John is asking for everyone to write a piece, not just about a cat, but about a cat that no one here as ever seen except for Graham, who isn't even here?"

Eric nodded. "Right."

That was when Graham leaned into the room and made a '_Psst_!' noise to Neil, gesturing for him to come to the door. "Um…we have a little problem…actually, it's a big problem,"

"A problem with what?"

"A problem with Pickle."

Neil leaned closer as if he didn't hear Graham well enough the first time. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Taking a firm hold of Neil's arm, Graham pulled Neil outside of the meeting room. "Um…it seems that…uh…he's gone,"

"What do you mean he's fucking gone?"

"I mean he's not in the box anymore,"

"What the fuck are you talking about? He's a dead cat, where the fuck is he going to run off to?"

Graham looked upset. "There's no need to get mad at me, Neil. I didn't plan on this happening," he paused. "I realized my wallet was gone and I went back outside to see if it was there…and…there might have been a dog…a big tan colored dog…and he had ripped open the box and…he was eating…Pickle's body,"

Neil's eyes widened in shock, and his hand drifted up to his mouth. "You're fucking joking with me, right?"

"I'm afraid not," Graham's voice was quiet. "What are you going to do? We can't tell John, he'll be heartbroken,"

There wasn't any way that Neil could respond without swearing loudly, kicking and screaming. How does one tell a saddened other that their dead cat's body was eaten by a hungry stray dog? "Ok…" Neil paused to think. "What can we do…we can tell John and completely ruin his life, possibly make him want to end his own life over the chewed remains of Pickle…or we could put Pickle's body in the box, or at least what's left of it…"

"What if we found another dead cat body to put in there?" Graham asked.

"We don't have time to go searching the city for another dead cat body!" Neil groaned. "Jeez, Graham, why didn't you bring the box inside? Now Pickle is a snack for a street dog! _Shit_…I'll find something. We cannot tell John or anyone else about this, let's keep this between us,"

"No, I know John better, I'll find something. You stay here and keep everyone distracted," Graham demanded, and started to walk away, but remembered something and came back. "Where did Terry go?"

Neil shook his head. "I have no idea. But that's the least of our worries right now."

* * *

><p>Slowly, everyone's heads turned towards the corner of the meeting room, where Neil was standing, tapping his foot impatiently and chewing loudly on his thumbnail. He had bitten it down to the quick and it was getting sore, but he could barely feel it over the blood rushing through his veins. It was strange for him to be so nervous, as he had never felt so anxious before. This could end up being the worst day in his life, in the days of the office, in John's life, and it could be the end of any friendly relationship between the two. "Neil!" Michael said loudly, having repeated his friend's name over and over; Neil finally glanced towards the table. "What are you doing?"<p>

"Oh…nothing…" Neil straightened up. "Nothing at all…did you all finish writing?"

"We've been done. We're all just sitting here and waiting for John,"

"Good. I'll go see if John is ready, and we'll get this over with…where are Graham and Terry?"

Carol gestured through the door behind Neil, where she could see someone coming into the office. "There's Graham," she told him. "Here, someone read my note. I want to know if it sounds genuine. I don't want to sound unrealistic,"

Neil left the room and walked quickly up to Graham. "Did you get the Pickle situation figured out?"

"Yes," Graham nodded, appearing a little breathless. "It took a bit of looking, but I found something to replace Pickle. We just can't let John look in the box, he'd be very surprised to find what I put in there,"

"What did you put in there?" Neil asked.

Graham couldn't help but let a little giggle escape and he pressed the fingers of his right hand over his mouth until he was able to relax his lips. "I put Jonsey's employee of the month trophies in there,"

"What? Those things are heavy!"

"Neil, those things are plastic. They don't weigh more than two pounds, and there were quite a few trophies to put in there. Besides, Pickle was a huge heavy cat that had to have weighed close to fifteen pounds. It all balances out,"

"Graham, someone _will_ notice that the trophies are gone. Someone like _Terry_, and he's going to get so pissed when he finds out they are gone,"

"Well, I took Gilliam's too. I figured why not just go all out and take everything that makes people feel good?"

Immediately, Neil's hands began slapping at his pants pockets to make sure his things were still in place. "You didn't take my weed, did you?"

Graham shook his head. "Oh, no, I would never take that,"

"Ok. I don't know if John's ready and Terry hasn't come back, but we should probably do this soon. It's getting late in the day…and I keep thinking about Pickle's body…being eaten by that dog. Oh, God, I could smell it every time I went into the break room," Neil's mouth began to twist as the inside watered just from the memory of the smell, and he could feel gagging sensation start in his throat –

"Don't get your tonsils in a twist," Graham distracted his memory.

"Alright, I'm ready," John appeared next to them, a large piece of paper in his hand. Neil and Graham could see that it was full on the front and a few sentences were on the top back, although John did have very large handwriting. "I have my speech. Is everyone else ready?"

The two glanced at each other, then back at John. "We're just waiting for Terry to come back. He's been gone for awhile. Do you want to start without him and he can catch up when he gets back?" Neil asked.

John paused, glancing down at his paper. "I suppose we can do it like that. Did you tell him that this was important?"

"He knows," Neil assured him. "Let's get the pictures and our coats and go outside."

They all filled the elevator to go to the bottom floor, all of them wrapped up in their winter coats and scarves and hats and gloves, each holding a few pictures and some candles that Carol had stashed away in her desk. Yet, no one had the heart (or balls) to say what they were all thinking – that Pickle really had some nerve to die in the second week of January. There was still snow on the ground and the air was more than chilly; they could all see their breath as they followed Neil and Graham to the grave. "Are you sure it will be okay?" Neil leaned towards Graham, his voice a whisper. "You know, with putting the trophies in the box?"

Graham gave him a reassuring smile. "It will be fine as long as John doesn't look in the box…or anyone else for that matter. We can get away with this,"

There was a quick assemblance of the picture frames and candles, which were lit, and they all positioned themselves around the grave. John stood at the foot of the hole, while Graham stood to his left, the box of Pickle in his hands, with Neil and Carol next to him; across the small grave from Carol was Terry G, Michael and Eric to his left. Despite that they were all wearing thick padded coats, Neil could see Eric slip his hand into Michael's coat pocket, where his hand was, and he couldn't help but shake his head. _Even at a funeral_…"Who wants to start?" he asked.

No one spoke, and Neil wondered if everyone really had their work written up like they claimed. He wondered if they were just going to wing it, come up with some lovely lines about Pickle, the cat they had never met, or if they would all pretend to be too sad to say anything. "Graham should go first," Terry's voice interrupted the sound of teeth chattering in the cold, of shivering spines and the rustling of hands and knees rubbing together to collect warmth. "You were closest to the…to Pickle, besides John,"

Graham looked at Terry, surprised. "I…no, I couldn't. You go ahead, Terry,"

Terry shook his head. "One of you two," he looked to Michael and Eric.

"What about Neil?" Eric put the pressure on his friend, sending him a look of apology when Neil realized what he was doing.

"Who's been here the longest?" Neil asked.

"That would be Graham," Michael said.

"What about Carol?" Graham leaned forward to look down at Carol. "Ladies first, after all,"

"I think John should go first," Carol blurted out, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself. "It is your cat after all,"

John nodded. "You're right, Carol, I should," he cleared his throat and straightened up, the piece of paper shaking slightly in his hands. "Friends, co-workers, ladies – " he paused. "Lad_y_ and gentlemen…I would like to thank you all for attending the funeral of my pet, family member, and very close friend, Pickle…Pickle was a very important part of my life for the past twelve years. I was at a very low point those years ago and I was on a road to self destruction, after a girlfriend that I had been with for a long time had broken up with me. I will always remember walking down the street, contemplating taking very bad drugs to numb myself because a part of my life was gone, and I looked into the window of this shop. And there, in the basket, was this…it was Pickle,"

No one knew this part of the story. They never knew what had driven John to feel so depressed with his life that he walked down that street and had this epiphany. Neil glanced around at the group to see everyone watching John, a look of concentration on their faces as they focused on John's words. He turned his head to look at Carol, and he could see her eyes brimming with tears, and although it was such a wrong moment, he felt _it_ happening. _Even at a funeral_, he told himself in a scolding tone, and put a consoling arm around Carol, who leaned against him and wiped her eyes.

"There was something about the way he stood up on his back legs and put his front paws to the window…I couldn't not go see him. So I went into the shop and the clerk let me hold him, and that was it. I bought Pickle that day, and I took him home. And I bought him the pillow, and a collar, and food… he was mine. He was my pet, my responsibility, and he would become my greatest comfort and friend. Pickle – " he looked to the box. " – you were a loving, sweet, beautiful animal. And you will never be forgotten. I will always remember you fondly, and I will always love you. There will never be a can of cat food, a litter box, or a pillow that won't make me think of you. You…you were my best friend."

Everyone was on the brink of tears, except for Carol, who was blowing her nose into a tissue she had brought out. "Oh, John, that was beautiful," she told him. "You did a lovely job writing that out. I know Pickle would be so proud,"

He nodded, sniffling. "Thank you, Carol. Would you like to go next?"

Carol's face went pale. "Um…well…to be honest, and I'm sure I'm speaking for all of us when I say this, but I think you summed it all up, and there is no need for us to say anything,"

"Exactly what I was thinking," Michael added. "Very nice, John,"

John shook his head. "No, no, I'd like to hear what you all had to say. You all wrote something about Pickle, didn't you?"

"Err…" everyone all said.

"Oh, come on, now, you all did, right?" John demanded.

Graham sighed. "To be honest, John, no one really felt comfortable writing anything about Pickle because they all said that they didn't know him well enough. And to be honest, no one knew Pickle well enough because one, he's a cat, and two, you don't bring too many people into your life. You live a very introverted lifestyle. I'm even surprised that you and your girlfriend have been together for as long as you have, because you're so hidden away. You can't always be like that, John, and with Pickle passing, you're going to be even more secluded. Let this be the opportunity for you to come out of your shell and make better friends with everyone we work with. And how are we even friends? We're complete opposites! You didn't even like me when you started working here,"

John looked taken aback at Graham's passionate speech, but then his thoughts overcame him and he turned to everyone else. "None of you wrote anything?"

"We did write something, but it wouldn't do Pickle justice," Carol explained.

"Are you joking? He's a cat," John replied. "He naps, shits, licks his asshole, eats, cleans himself, hacks up hairballs. That's the easiest essay anyone could have asked you to write. You could have described what he looked like – fur, pointed ears, green eyes, claws, four legs, four paws, long skinny body, fluffy tail – "

Now everyone looked baffled at this outburst. "Why are you getting so upset?" Neil asked.

"Why am I getting…oh, my God, do you really have to ask?" John snapped. "My pet of twelve years is dead, and all I asked was for my friends to say a few nice things about him at his funeral. I didn't ask for a sonnet or a haiku about him, just a few nice words! And I feel like I'm the only one taking this seriously, and no one else is! What is wrong with all of you? How hard is it to say something nice about someone? You all do it all the time! I fucking hear Eric and Michael talking to each other about how nice the other one looks in a shirt, or that the other looks like he's been working out – " he didn't see them glance in opposite directions, a slight flush over their cheeks as Eric's hand removed itself from Michael's coat pocket. "_And where the fuck is Terry_?"

A quick glance around the parking lot from everyone was the response. "We don't know," Neil finally admitted. "He left when you and Gilliam and I got back. No one knows where he went,"

"Fuck this," John threw his hands up in frustration, then wrapped his arms around himself for warmth. "I'm ready to call it quits on this whole funeral. Graham, give me the box, and we can put it in the ground, cover it up, and go back inside,"

Graham and Neil's eyes met, and they shared a look of anxiety and fear. "Um…well, John, you see…" Graham started. "I haven't…well…I haven't read _my_ paper yet,"

John gave him a dirty look. "Graham, I'm not in the mood now to hear anyone's speeches, so just give – "

"He can't!" Neil blurted out nervously. "He can't give you the box because…you see…" and that was when God struck them with good luck, because he could see Terry's car pulling into the parking lot. Maybe now he would start going to church more. "Look! Terry's here! We can't bury Pickle without him here!"

"What?" John looked over his shoulder as Terry's car parked.

Relief settled over Neil's mind, and he thought that maybe with Terry's arrival, everything could get back on track, and maybe they could continue on with the funeral like it was a normal process. Maybe they could get away with burying the trophies – "Sorry I'm late, I had to go run an errand," Terry said as he joined the group, standing between John and Eric.

"You had to go run an errand?" John asked in a slow, irritated voice. "Really now, Terry? And what, may I ask, was so essential that you had to leave so instantly today that you couldn't stay for Pickle's funeral? We were just about to put the box in the ground, and all of a sudden, you come riding up here like some king or something important! It's like there's a full moon out tonight, because you all are acting so strange,"

Terry looked concerned that John was so upset. "Well, you know, John, I was planning on coming back, and I did. It was just a surprise – "

"A surprise? A surprise for who? Some more fucking office supplies or more polish for your plastic employee of the month trophies?"

"Well, no, it's – "

"Graham, I want that box now," John said in a low, angry voice to his friend, who was still cradling the box in his arms.

Everyone watched as Graham straightened up, holding the box tighter to his chest. "John, I will not give you this box until you have calmed down, and by a lot. Smoke a joint if you have to, but you are getting too upset over this,"

John's hand went to rub his forehead and he sighed with aggravation. "Graham, my cat died today. I have a perfect reason to be upset. Why should I be happy about anything right now?"

"Because of this," Terry said loudly from behind him.

Slowly, John turned around, prepared to just let Terry have it, because he had had enough. He felt like everyone was against him right now, and his day was just going downhill more and more with each passing second. And as he was prepared to open his mouth and start yelling, saying terrible things based on how terrible he felt…Terry pulled his right hand out of the left side of his jacket, which had concealed a small thing wrapped in a small blanket. And from the blanket was a weak mewing noise, and everyone leaned closer to see a small, white kitten in the blanket, it's eyes blinking. "What is that?" John asked.

Terry gave him a look. "I bought you a kitten. It's not to replace Pickle, and nothing ever will, but you need something to get you through this right now. And I know you have a very pretty girlfriend, but she's not going to justify this,"

He stepped forward and deposited the wrapped up kitten into John's hands. John appeared confused; just on the edge of shock, that someone would do something so good for him. He held the kitten clumsily, like a father with his newborn baby, and gazed upon the baby in his arms, trying to decide what to make of it. "…Thank you, Terry," he finally said. "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome," Terry replied. "And that one is a girl, so you'll have a whole new experience with her,"

"I guess I will. I've never had a girl cat before," John told him. "Shall we continue on with the funeral? Graham, if you'll put the collar in the box with Pickle, you can put it in the ground and cover him up,"

Neil stretched across the grave to the collar in John's hand. "I'll take it," he snatched it up and brought it Graham's side, the two of them working together to hide the shine of plastic trophies from everyone else. They were able to sneak the collar into the velvet lined wooden box, and clasp it shut, and then Graham put it into the grave. Together, they swept the dirt over the top until it was covered – their secret was safe.

Graham stood up and cleared his throat. "Pickle…he never met a leg he wanted to scratch, human or table."

He glanced to Neil then, signaling it was his turn to say something, _anything_, to keep up the cheerful mood. "Pickle loved his owner, because John treated him like family,"

"Although he never had his own cat family, he would have made beautiful babies," Carol smiled at John.

It was Terry J's turn, although John didn't expect him to say anything, as he had done enough. But Terry opened his mouth anyway, and prepared to speak – however, his eyes were distracted by something moving across the lot. He squinted his eyes and leaned forward, trying to focus on what was going on. "Is that a dog?"

"Terry, this is a cat funeral, don't mention any dogs," John teased him, and his attention went to the dog. He saw that the dog, some light colored short furred four legged beast with a giant tail and large ears, had a black thing hanging from its mouth. He also squinted and leaned closer to look at it, trying to figure out what it was. Maybe a squirrel – but squirrels aren't black – or a rabbit – but who has a rabbit downtown? Maybe it was a cat, some stray cat that had been abandoned and found its way into an alley, where a pack of wild dogs had found it and ripped the poor thing up. He clung tighter to the kitten in his arms, thinking about how nicely he was going to treat it, just like Pickle. Funny how this kitten was white, and Pickle had been…black…and then he straightened up and let out a gasp. "_Is that Pickle_?"

"What?" Neil and Graham turned to look towards the dog. They hadn't even noticed that it was there…

Graham sighed heavily, almost on the edge of fear. "Oh…shit…"

* * *

><p>Everyone went back inside, leaving Neil to sigh heavily at the freshly turned cold dirt on the grave. "After all that went on today, I think I'm going to the pub tonight," he told himself, nodding with approval at his idea. He turned back towards the building, but Carol was standing in his way. "Oh…I didn't know you were still out here,"<p>

Carol didn't say anything, she kept standing there, with her hands on her hips, her legs spread slightly in a cowboy stance. The glare on her face sent the tiniest shiver through his stomach, and somehow ended up in his crotch. "You know why this happened, don't you?" she asked seriously.

"Why what happened?" Neil asked.

"Why this whole thing happened today," she gestured to the grave. "The funeral, driving to John's to get cat things, the whole incident with the dog eating Pickle, all of us having to write letters to a dead cat that wouldn't give two shits about meeting us. You know why?"

Neil paused, pressing his lips together as he tried to come up with an answer. "No, why?"

She took a couple steps towards him. "It happened because you looked him in the eye. I told you Neil, didn't I? I said don't look him in the eye,"

"…I'm sorry," he muttered.

"I did warn you, didn't I?" she glared up at him.

"Yes, you did," he admitted.

"We could have had a nice, normal, quiet day with John being upset for just a few hours, and none of this would have happened," she continued to lecture. "But you couldn't help being a nice guy and you looked him in the eye, and this whole fucking fiasco happened…nice guys do finish last, you know that?"

Neil nodded. "I have heard that,"

Carol also nodded, then looked Neil up and down. She reached up and pulled his coat lapels closer together, keeping the warmth of his jacket wrapped tighter around him, and then held onto his arms and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek gently. "I like that," she finally said. "I like that you're a nice guy…a nice considerate guy, who went through all the trouble to help someone out. I respect that,"

"Thank you," Neil smiled at her.

"Come on," she moved to his side and linked her arm with his. "Let's go back inside before we freeze,"

He let her lead him back inside, and when they got to the door, he opened it for her and she slipped through with a smile. Carol was right, he was a nice guy, but not a pathetic nice guy – he was a romantic. Typically, anyway, as today he had let himself slip slightly and was a little impractical, but it was all for a good cause. He had helped John deal with a stressful situation in his life, despite the bad ending, and he had gotten a nice reward for all his hard work. Maybe working here wouldn't be so terrible.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**Okay, okay, I know – an animal eating another animal is not nice. But I promise that no real cats were harmed in the writing of this fanfiction. Or dogs…no animals were harmed.**


	3. Chapter Three

A/N:This is just a warning that the story you're about to read contains mature content. It is rated so for language and strong sexuality. These are things that I feel are in everyday life and because it is in everyday life, it shouldn't be excluded from what we read. Also, I like to put these "characters" (real life people) and put them in this "everyone/most everyone is gay" universe, or the "the six members of Monty Python and their lovers are gay, everyone else isn't and they don't have wives or children" universe that I really, really like. And of course, some timelines may be a little different. This warning was written for you, the reader, to be prepared for what your eyes may seek, and thank you for taking the time to read my stories. So if you don't like it, then get the hell out of here.

Also, this story is completely one hundred percent dedicated to my muse, **kyliesmilie26**, for all of her encouragement and late night discussions. My dear – it's finally posted! :D

Sincerely, the author

* * *

><p><em>Wednesday, January 18<em>_th__, 1970 – The office throws Carol a surprise birthday party, only to discover that it was planned on a day she has PMS._

The elevator door opened to allow Neil to step out and go through the office door. From the coat rack, he could see the meeting room door was open, and something pink and cute was in the doorway. "What the fuck do they have going on in there?" he asked himself, walking straight ahead to the door. Inside, he found Terry G and Graham setting up what appeared to be birthday décor in the meeting room. "Hey, what's going on?" he asked, peering into the room from the doorway.

Terry was standing on tiptoe in a chair by the window, straining to reach the corner of the room as he attempted to tape up a banner. "It's Carol's birthday. Well, it was last Friday, and she said she didn't want to have a party. Well, we didn't, and she was pretty upset – I'm sure you remember – so we planned a surprise party and we're having it today,"

"Do you need any help?" Neil set down his coat on a chair. "What can I do?"

"Streamers or balloons?" Graham turned around with two separate packages held in his hands.

Neil chose the balloons. "So how old is Carol anyway?" he asked as he ripped open the packaging. "She can't be older than – " he paused, trying to think of an appropriate age for her. However, the age of a woman is a difficult subject and he decided it best to just let it lie.

"Good call not saying. The truth is, no one really knows. Some say that she doesn't age," Graham told him. "Now, Mike and Eric are getting the cake right?"

"They are picking it up on the way in this morning," Terry replied distractedly as the banner was failing to cooperate on being taped up, and he wasn't able to get it as high up as the other half, which Graham had taped up. "Fuck. Why am I the one putting up this stupid banner? I'm close to being the shortest one here. One of you two, come help me,"

"Don't worry about the banner, Terry, just put it down and put out the tablecloth and glitter," Graham said. "Neil and I will get it when we're finished over here,"

_BANG_! Terry and Graham looked over at Neil, who was standing with his hands at his face in an oval shape, as the balloon he had been blowing up exploded; his co-workers exchanged a look, and Graham continued setting up streamers and Terry got off the chair and went for the tablecloth. "Sorry guys," Neil took another balloon from the packet and began to stretch it out. "So you two really think it's okay for Eric and Michael to be driving around in a car together?" Neil asked jokingly. "With a cake and all?"

"What are you getting at?" Graham and Terry both turned to look at Neil.

He forgot that they didn't know about the secret relationship between their co-workers. "Never mind," he blew up a balloon and tied the end in a knot, placing it successfully on the small table against the wall. "Why would Carol say she doesn't want a party on her birthday? From what I understand, she's very much into having parties,"

"She is, but she tries to act like she doesn't want all the attention on her," Terry explained. "She's very strange about that sort of thing. I don't understand it, but it's better than having her be mad at us for not having the party. And she'll be happier with it being a surprise – " he paused to smile excitedly. "I do love a good surprise party."

"Oh, not again," Graham muttered under his breath. "He's been talking about his love of surprise parties all morning, and during various moments of last week,"

Terry shook his head as he fanned the pink plastic table cloth over the table in the middle of the room. "You'd like them too if you'd ever have one,"

"I have too had one,"

"It doesn't really matter who's had one and who hasn't had one. The point is that we're having one now, and it's for Carol. Do you think she'll like it?"

Graham finished with his work, and stepped down off the chair. "She better like it, after getting pissed at us for not having it last week. I could see that happening…you know how women are, right?" he went over to where Terry had been attempting to hang the banner and started putting it up himself. "Did you invite Allen?" he asked Terry.

There was a brief pause, and then Terry went around the table to straighten the corners. "No. Was I supposed to?"

"Well, I'm sure Carol would have like for her boyfriend to be at her surprise party,"

"I don't have his phone number. I don't even really like him that much. There's something about him that I don't like, he seems…well, he's kind of…he's a jackass. That's how I will describe him,"

"You better not let her hear you talking about him like that, or she'll scalp you. They've been together for almost a year. I think she's planning on marrying him sometime soon. If you're with someone for that long, might as well make an honest man or woman out of them,"

"That doesn't mean anything. If you and I were together and I was a jackass, does that mean we have the right to marry?"

"If I loved you enough, even if you were a jackass, then yes,"

"That's a terrible reason – "

Terry was interrupted by John coming into the room, carrying a stack of birthday plates. "Here you go, I got them. I don't want to hear that I didn't help out because I brought plates, therefore I helped out,"

Graham looked at the stack. "You brought one set?"

"How many was I supposed to bring?" John asked.

"I would have brought at least two, because you know that everyone is going to want to take cake home," Terry told him.

John looked confused. "Why would anyone take cake home? Its Carol's cake, it's for her birthday. We don't need to take anything from her. Oh, were we supposed to bring presents?"

That comment received a glare from Terry. "Really, John, have you never been to a birthday party before?"

"Well, I got her something. It's a pin that I found in an antique store and it's in the car, I just didn't know if everyone else was giving her presents and I didn't want to be the only one," John replied. "And a bunch of balloons,"

"I didn't get her anything," Neil offered, and they all looked at him, a half blown pink balloon in hand, as if they had forgotten him, and it was quiet in the room.

"…Perhaps I should get the balloons out of my car…" John finally said under his breath.

* * *

><p>"Where are Mike and Eric?" Terry G asked. "Carol is going to be here soon, and we don't even have the cake,"<p>

"Don't worry, we don't need the cake right now. It's not that important, she's not going to want to eat cake after breakfast," Graham told him.

Neil turned from the window. "She's pulling into a parking lot,"

Terry G let out a squeal of excitement. "I'm so excited, I love surprise parties!" he enthusiastically clapped his hands. "Love them, love them – "

"Watch out, here comes the cake!" Eric's voice called out as he backed into the room. Between him and Michael was the cake, store bought, very simple with very plain colors. They carefully set it on the table, and everyone gathered around to look at it. "What do you all think?"

"It looks good," Graham said.

"Okay, she's out of the car," Neil reported from the window. "Let's get everyone in here,"

They looked around to see who was missing. "I'll get Terry," Michael started towards the door.

However, John's voice stopped him. "What's that on your neck, Eric?"

Everyone turned to look at the small bruise on Eric's neck, which he clearly forgot about by the look on his face. "Oh, I…I got hit with a…uh…" his fingers went to cover the spot.

Terry G gave him a look. "You got hit by someone's _mouth_. Who was sucking on your neck?"

Eric flushed slightly and continued to babble about it being a bruise from a sporting accident, but Neil could see the corners of Michael's mouth turn up in a sly grin as he left to find Terry. "Oh, give it up, Eric, that's a hickey and we all know it," Graham went to Eric and touched it.

"Ow!" Eric pulled away. "Quit that, it hurts!"

"That's not very work appropriate. You need to cover that up," John told him. "You better not let Mr. Potter see it,"

Neil was quick to cover up the debate, as well as save his friend from any embarrassing conversations about his bruise. "I still don't understand why no one thought to still have the party even if she didn't want it. She had it marked off on the calendar, all in marker and she put stars all over the date box. Obviously, she wanted someone to do something about it,"

"Well, we had a lot going on that week, with starting the new year at work, your two weeks training period on our system, other things…" Eric replied. "It would have been too much extra work,"

"Too much extra work to give someone a cake for their birthday?" Neil asked, receiving a glare from everyone else.

Michael and Terry returned then. "She'll be here in a moment. We've got everything, right?" Michael asked.

"As the head of the party planning committee, I made sure everyone had a job to do," Terry G said. "Graham and I brought in the decorations – a banner I made, balloons, and stupid party hats…which I notice that no one is wearing…"

He sent a glare around the room at everyone, and with a groan of irritation, everyone took one of the pointed hats with a string and put it on. "These are so stupid. We're adults, why do we need children's hats?" Terry J asked.

"Never mind that," Terry G continued. "Ok, we have a cake brought in by Eric and Michael. It looks great – "

"Two 'p's in happy," Eric said.

Terry nodded. "Everyone else brought in plates, napkins, eating utensils, everything in here. All we need – "

The office door opened and they could hear Carol come in. "Good morning, boys," she called out. "Where are you? Is the coffee ready?"

"We're in the meeting room. Come in here for a minute," Terry G replied.

They could see her setting down her purse and coat at her desk, then she walked over to the meeting room. Her eyes weren't on the doorway; instead she was looking around the office. When she did get to the door, that was when she looked inside and her eyes widened as her mouth dropped open. "What – "

"_Surprise_!" all the men shouted.

For a moment, Carol stood positively still and her facial expression remained frozen on her face. It was as if she didn't know what to say. The moments passed, and finally the smiles on her co-worker's faces began to fade. "Happy birthday!" Terry G said, but she still didn't respond. "Well?"

"…_God damn it_!" Carol finally replied, her tone was angry, and she turned to run off.

A look of confusion was passed around the room. "What was that?" John asked.

"I have no idea…well, since we're apparently not doing this party, I'm going back to work," Terry J announced.

Eric reached out an arm to stop him. "Wait, we can't just let that go. What just happened?"

"So we were a few days late. She didn't need to get that upset," Terry J told him. "And we all put in money to get her that cake, so if she doesn't want it, I'm having a piece,"

This time, Michael stopped Terry from moving. "Did something happen that we missed yesterday? Is it her and Allen? I thought they were doing well,"

"It said 'lunch with Allen' on the calendar this morning," Graham offered. "I thought that was today. Let me go see,"

He left the meeting room and the rest remained pondering what might have set off Carol so bad. "Does she still have her fish?" Michael asked, breaking the long silence.

"I think it's still living. But she wouldn't get that upset over a stupid fish passing?" John replied. "Although it _is_ Carol…"

"Can't I please have a piece of cake?" Terry J whined.

"_No_!" Terry G glared at him. "No one is touching that cake until Carol has the first piece. It's the rule of cake cuttery – the person the party is for gets the first piece, and you aren't that person, so if there is one single icing rose missing before she gets in here, I swear that I – "

Thundering footsteps charged across the office floor and Graham flew back into the room, looking disheveled and frightened, the calendar in his hand. "_We made a big mistake_," he said in a low serious voice.

"What?" they all asked.

Graham held up the calendar. "_Look_."

Everyone crowded around and examined the date squares, trying to find what was wrong. "I don't see it," Neil finally said.

"Look!" Graham began pointing to dates. "Here's her birthday, and here's today. What is that on today's date?"

"…_A circle_…" Terry J realized.

Neil looked at him. "What is the circle for?"

The look on everyone's face was as if they had seen a ghost. "Oh, shit," Eric finally said.

"What? What does the circle mean?" Neil asked.

Michael's hands pushed through his hair anxiously and he started breathing weirdly. "We've had all those days marked for weeks! How did we miss these days?"

Terry J pushed Terry G's shoulder roughly. "How could you do this? You planned a party for her today! This day, out of all days, you fucking idiot!"

"I swear, I didn't know!" Terry G explained. "I didn't even see the circle! You all know I would never have done this had I known! You all believe me, don't you?" he turned pleading eyes to his co-workers.

"You're such a cock," Terry J sneered.

"Hey, _you_ didn't say anything when I suggested today for the party – "

"Good going, Terry," John scowled, then reached for straws that were on the table. "There's only one way to solve this – we'll draw straws. Shortest straws get to stay, the rest leave and owe the short straws lunch,"

Terry J shook his head. "Lunch isn't good enough for this sort of thing!"

"What does the circle mean?" Neil repeated as loudly as he could, just short of shouting.

"The circle marks the days that Carol has PMS!" Graham told him, his voice in a similar volume. "So therefore, we are royally fucked."

Neil paused. "Oh, that's all? Well that's not horrible – " the stunned looks on his co-workers faces stopped his words. "What? How bad does it get when she's having PMS? Does she yell a lot, or not give you phone messages, or break – "

"She made a grown man cry," Graham continued. "We use to have this one bloke working here, and she made him cry. I won't even go into details, but he's not here anymore. That's why you have a job,"

They all seemed so serious that Neil had to laugh. "You're all joking. You have to be! No one is that terrifying,"

"…Okay, so Neil is staying. The rest of us will draw straws," John picked one of the straws out and tossed it aside, then began bending a few to break off the ends.

"Now, wait a minute, I don't think this is fair," Terry J interrupted. "I was stuck with her last time, and I had to listen to her cry about how unorganized her closet was and how she couldn't find a specific sweater, and then she nearly twisted my nipple off because she thought I was calling her sloppy when I said I would help her straighten it up,"

Michael shook his head. "That's nothing. _Once_ – "

Neil stepped forward. "You do realize that you're talking about Carol. We all know her, she is a great woman. I'm sure everything is okay. She's probably just so surprised by the party that she got a little too excited and overreacted,"

A small noise of someone clearing their throat sounded from the doorway, and they all turned to see Carol leaning against the wooden frame, her eyes were red and wet. "Boys…do you think I'm pretty?" she pouted.

It was eerily quiet in the room, and Neil looked around to see all the others staring at Carol, with both their eyes and their mouths open in shock. "Fuck the straws," Terry G finally whispered. "We have to get out of here now!"

Carol's fingers went to wipe her eyes and she sniffled. "What did you say?" she whimpered.

A hand smacked the back of Terry's head. "_Yes_!" he shouted. "You're very pretty, very beautiful! In fact, you're the best looking girl I've _ever_ seen!"

A weak smile formed on Carol's mouth as a thank you, and she turned away to go back to her desk. Clearly, everyone agreed with Terry's words of leaving, as it didn't take too long for one of them to react, by pushing forwards towards the door, but somehow Neil was able to maneuver his way between everyone and the doorway. "You all realize that we can't do this, not when we're having her birthday party," he placed his hands on the doorframe.

"You don't seem to realize that we are in hell, Neil, and there are no birthdays in hell!" Michael snapped. "Get out of the way!"

"None of us are leaving. We're staying the whole day with Carol, and we're having her party. Together."

"Neil, I swear to God that I am prepared to chew through your arms to get through that door. Move it or become armless!" John demanded.

There was a groan from Terry G in the back of the crowd. "I just realized…Neil is new. He hasn't had to put up with Carol during her time yet. He doesn't fully understand."

It was as if everyone had somewhat of an epiphany when they sighed, as if they completely understood Neil's position and how his mind was telling him to tell them that it was okay to be around Carol while her hormones were raging. And then, the epiphany disappeared and they went back to their scared selves. "Eric, explain to your friend why we shall be leaving," Graham told him.

"Get him up there!" another voice cheered out from the back, and Eric was grabbed by everyone and shoved up to the front of the crowd, stumbling over the carpet.

"Ow, ow! Okay, I'll explain to him! Just let me go!" Eric complained as he was shoved against Neil. He backed up and pushed his hair from his face, trying to think of how to explain this to Neil. "Okay…you see, when Carol is having PMS…it's like dealing with a bear. A big, angry, hungry mother bear that sees you near her cub, and all they want to do is rip you to pieces with her giant claws and bone crushing teeth. And then, she wants to cuddle her baby, and then eat the pieces of your body, and then maybe go a peaceful swim in the river. And then she might scoop up some salmon with her giant claws and bash it against the rocks, and then take a lovely nap and then defecate on your remains. That's how bad it gets – we are defecated on."

Neil paused to absorb Eric's words, and he looked around at his co-workers, all of whom were waiting for his word, his agreement, his permission that they could go – "We can't just leave her," Neil finalized the decision. "You have to remember that the normal Carol, _the real Carol_, is inside of that big, angry, hungry mother bear. And no matter how bad she may get, in a few days she will be back to normal, and we can just forget about it,"

Terry J leaned around Eric to talk to him. "He does understand how this is going to work out, correct?"

Eric sighed. "No, he's right…we have to stay,"

"NO!" John groaned as his hands curled into fists, then dropped them heavily onto the table. "Fuck! You two owe me big for this,"

He pushed past Neil to leave the meeting room, followed by Graham and both Terrys; Neil looked at the two others. Michael was giving Eric a look that said he was disappointed in his agreeing with Neil, and he took that look as the signal that he needed to leave. "Excuse me," he dismissed himself, sneaking out of the meeting room.

And of course, outside the door was Carol. "Neil, I wanted to say that I'm sorry for getting so upset. I just couldn't believe that you all threw a party for me," she peered into the room. "Oh, _a cake_ – who got the cake?" she turned and looked at John, Graham, and the Terrys, who were standing on the other side of the doorframe.

"Michael and Eric," John stuttered nervously.

"How sweet," she smiled at the cake. "Well…I'm going to go make coffee, and then we need to get started working. But at lunch, I want you all back in here for cake, okay?"

"Okay," they all repeated back nervously.

Carol gave them the biggest, most cheerful smile she could manage as she walked to the kitchen. When she had left, Neil looked at his co-workers. "See? She's just excited. We can't leave her during her party,"

All eyes turned on him, each of them sending a glare into his own. "She's alright now, but soon, she'll be insane again and want to cut our balls off!" Terry G told him. "And I don't know about you, but I prefer to keep mine attached to my body,"

"I guarantee that your balls will still be attached to your body by the end of the day," Neil promised.

"I hope so, or else you'll have to deal with it all alone next month," Terry G said. "...This would be better if we could eat cake now..."

They all went off to their cubicles and Neil paused at the aisle, looking back at Carol at her desk, sitting in the chair and preparing to type up letters that needed to be sent out when Mr. Potter arrived. _He probably got out of this somehow_, Neil thought. And that was when he heard Carol let out an aggravated groan and she stood up, glaring in his direction with the wrath of Mother Nature in a hurricane. "Is there something wrong?" he asked.

"_Where are my birthday flowers_?" she demanded.

That was when Terry J pushed passed Neil, muttering something about running to the flower shop because no one got the usual vase of lilies that Carol liked to have on her desk for her birthday...

* * *

><p>Neil zipped up his pants and stepped away from the urinal, realizing he was slowly starting to regret making everyone stay for the party. He finally understood that they were right – Carol was insane when she had PMS. Already, she had thrown her typewriter to the ground because it jammed, and put a rather large dent in the side; it was the '&amp;' signal that had stuck. When a client called to ask about the company, Carol talked to them for almost thirty minutes about the different types of cheeses and wines she liked, and the different ways to mix them; the company sells neither cheese nor wine. And she cried on John's shoulder when someone mentioned tuna fish sandwiches because the smell reminded her of the three legged dog that her childhood friend had, the smell that was because it was so old and sickly. "The ozone layer – we're ruining it!" she had been saying when Neil disappeared into the bathroom.<p>

"I suppose I better get back out there," Neil told his reflection as he tried off his hands. "Man…this was a bad idea."

He swept his hands through his hair, then reached for the door handle, opened the door, and stepped out – directly into Carol. "Oh, hi, Neil!" her hands flew up to clasp together over her heart, then she gently placed them on his chest. "There you are!"

"Sorry, Carol, I didn't mean – " Neil's words were cut off by Carol's hands moving up and down his chest, distracting him when one moved to catch his chin. "What are you doing?"

"You know, Neil… " Carol's voice was gentle and her eyes shyly moved to the floor. "I always thought you were really cute."

_Oh, shit,_ he thought. "Oh, well, thanks…thank you, Carol. You're…pretty…"

She smiled shyly at him. "Just pretty?"

"Beautiful," Neil quickly correct himself. "You're very beautiful,"

_Stop talking and just leave_, he told himself, but he was trapped in her clutches and couldn't leave. She had him pinned between her and up against the doorframe of the bathroom. "You know, since you boys are throwing a birthday party for me, I should get whatever I want as my presents," she stood up on tiptoe to be as close as she could to Neil, so close that he could see each eyelash, every single bit of the light dusting of freckles on her face, he could smell the coffee on her breath – "Guess what I want from you?" she said in a teasing tone, the tip of her nose touching his.

"I can sing you a song," he replied nervously, trying to move away, but Carol's nails were digging into his collarbone. "Yeah, I can…me and Eric. We'll get our guitars – "

"I know you've been looking at me," Carol's hands moved up to Neil's face and held his head still. "And I've looked at you…how about a kiss for my present?"

"Uh – " Neil tried to protest, but Carol ignored him, and kissed him anyway. It wasn't a bad kiss, as her lips were soft and she didn't try to choke him with her tongue. But he knew the second it was over, Carol would probably either start crying, or slap him and call him an animal. So he just stood there, his hands pressed against the wall and the bathroom door, as Carol continued the kiss.

That was when Graham walked by the doors, not noticing his co-workers at first. Then, he realized that Carol was holding Neil in a lip lock, and he backtracked to do a double take. "I thought you both were seeing other people," he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

Neil turned his head away, sputtering and trying to collect his breath again. "What?" he asked confused. "I…I am…"

He had said the wrong words. "Well, then what are you doing kissing me?" Carol demanded and pushed away from him. "You pig – just another pair of legs to wrap around you, aren't I? All of you men make me sick, I don't understand any of you – " she interrupted herself with an aggravated growl and walked off, glaring at Graham when she disappeared back into the office. "Fucking pigs, all of you!"

Graham waited until she was gone, then looked back at Neil. "What was that all about?" he asked.

"I have no idea…I came out of the bathroom and she was there, and then she grabbed me…" Neil explained, still lined up against the wall. "I have no idea…and I'll have you know, I didn't kiss her,"

"I know," Graham agreed. "I could see you not kissing her, letting her smash up your lips with hers and holding you awkwardly against the door…" he paused, letting his eyes graze down Neil and when they stopped, he smiled. "And you responded by getting an erection…very nice."

"Oh, stop it," Neil scowled and pushed past him to go back into the office, so he could hide away in his cubicle until this annoying erection went away and then maybe, he would show his face and maybe by then, it would be time to go home. However, in the meeting room doorway was Carol, and she was making an announcement.

"Alright, everyone, in the meeting room! I'm ready to eat cake!"

Neil could hear Terry J groaning, his voice lifting to a whining tone as he shuffled towards their trap. "I don't want any cake, I want to go home! Can't I please go home?"

John patted his shoulders, leading his friend forward with a gentle push. "Come on now, we're almost done. Just a few more hours and we'll be home free,"

Terry groaned again, and Neil followed them into the meeting room. He looked around at all the decorations, the handmade banner and streamers, the balloons, the giant clump of them in the corner that was the number of years she was. "Did you see the balloons, Carol?" he asked, gesturing to them.

"Yes, how lovely," Carol smiled in the direction of the pink balloons. "Who bought them?"

John cleared his throat. "Uh, I did, Carol…I bet you didn't know that there are exactly twenty-nine balloons exact in there,"

Clearly, he said the wrong thing because anger flashed across Carol's face. "Twenty-nine? John, I'll have you know that I turned twenty-eight on my birthday!" she grabbed a fork off the table, then spun around and flew at the balloons, stabbing the first shiny pink oval she could reach. It popped loudly, startling everyone yet only one person let out a shriek.

"Well, I'm sorry, Carol, but I got you one to grow on," John protested.

"_You're ruining my party_!"

"Carol!" Neil yelled, not realizing the volume of his voice. "Carol, it's not that big of a deal – "

And now, Neil was the one who was misbehaving, according to the mind of Carol. "Maybe it's not that big of a deal to you, Neil, because it's okay for men to be older. But for women, it's a terrible thing. We are constantly being put down for our ages. People don't realize that beauty isn't only skin deep,"

"But I wasn't putting you down," John told her. "I was just giving you one year to grow on, for good luck. That's what we did with your candles,"

"What?" Carol's glare turned to the cake, then over to Eric and Michael, who had brought it in. "Are you all plotting against me? Trying to make me old before my time?

That was when Terry G leaned towards Neil and whispered in his ear. "And this is why we prefer to leave…"

Neil nodded in agreement. "I'll remember that for next time,"

"_I'm only twenty-eight_!" Carol was screaming.

"We don't have any tranquilizers, do we?" Neil asked.

Terry shook his head. "Nothing strong enough to bring her down at the stage she's at. We would need something that zookeepers use on elephants,"

"What about giving her a joint?"

That idea struck Terry as a very good one, and he withdrew half of one from his pocket. "It's not much, but it should be enough to get her to stop screaming. But she won't smoke it, she never has smoked with us before,"

Somehow, Eric was able to escape Carol's wrath and made his way over to Neil and Terry, leaving poor Michael to defend himself. "Are you two going to smoke that?" Eric asked, looking longingly at the half joint. "Because I don't think that's going to be enough for today. I've got some pills that will help,"

"We're going to give it to Carol so she'll calm down and stop being insane," Neil explained. "But if you don't think that's going to be enough for us…what about giving her one of your pills? How could we get her to take it?"

Eric gestured to the table. "Put some in the cake,"

"Like weed in brownies?" Terry asked. "Eric, that won't work. We would have to grind up the pill first, and you have to put the pill grains _into_ the mix before you bake them. You can't have it on top, it's all…it's nasty that way,"

"I know, but we will just have to make due," Eric replied. He removed a small plastic baggie out of his vest pocket which had a few small pills in the bottom. "Let's go get a slice of cake and I'll show you how to do it. Here, I'll go grind up the pills,"

Eric separated himself back to the cubicles, able to sneak away with an excuse of having to use the bathroom. Neil and Terry went over to the table, slipping past Carol as she was telling a story of the first drive-in she went to. "Poor Michael, having to endure Carol," Neil sympathized his co-worker. "Does it ever get better? Or is she always this bad?"

Terry glared at him. "Don't even try to act like you're worried about Carol and her one hundred different personalities. You were the one who insisted that this party continue despite her awkward monthly tantrum,"

"And you're the one who planned her party on this day," Neil replied. "I don't see how this is going to work,"

Eric sighed returned a few minutes later, his hand cupped with powder in it and held behind his back. "Careful, careful…alright then. We're going to put the pills in a piece of cake and make Carol eat it, and she will become very calm. It could be the day of her having PMS that we've dreamed out. Think about it…if it works today, we'll know how to plan it out every time from now,"

Terry held out a small plate with a middle piece of cake. "Here you go," he passed it to Eric.

"Cut it through the middle," Eric said. Terry took the plate and set it down on the table, then carefully cut it horizontally. "Alright now, you lift the top half," Eric told Neil, who used a fork to separate the pieces, and Eric began to sprinkle the pill powder on the cake. "Careful, careful…" he muttered to himself.

"What are you all doing?"

The three spun around to see Carol standing behind them, her hands on her hips and the same glare still in her eyes. "Oh, hi Carol," Eric peered over his shoulder as he continued to try and set the trap. "_We_ are…um…just getting a piece of cake,"

She glared at him. "You do realize that's my birthday cake, don't you?"

"The piece is for you," Terry blurted out.

"Well, give it here then," she demanded.

All three turned back to the table, but they were surprised to discover that the whole amount of pill powder had been dumped all over the cake. "Shit," Eric groaned. "That's a lot…Terry, cut open another pieces, we can make her eat two,"

Terry gave him a look. "She won't eat two pieces!"

"She's having PMS. Of course she'll eat two pieces!" Eric replied.

With a sigh, Terry cut another middle piece and deposited it onto a paper plate, and made a similar horizontal line through it and lifted the top part. Eric scraped his fingers through the cake and removed some of the powder to put between the other cake pieces; Neil groaned. "That's still too much,"

Carol's foot could be heard tapping on the floor. "I'm waiting," she said in a singsong voice, and she continued to tap her foot as the three struggled to put the two slices of cake back together. "Does anyone want to make a toast to me before I eat my cake? Someone say something nice about me!"

"Neil, you do it," Eric muttered to his friend distractedly.

"Why me?" Neil asked anxiously, and looked to Terry G. "You do it, you're the employee of the month – "

Terry J heard that and an enraged look flashed across his face. He was not going to let the employee of the month out do him on a speech for Carol's birthday, and quickly grabbed up a mug off the table. "Everyone, if I could have your attention please – " he held up his hands, the mug still in his grasp.

And so Terry began to make a toast to Carol, talking about how wonderful she was, how lovely she was, how none of them would ever got their work done without her there to encourage them, etc etc etc. And as he went on, all of the employees had their focus on him…except for Michael, that is. Well, he had been busy that day – he had gotten up a little earlier than normal to meet up with Eric for a breakfast meeting, and then, they snuck away for a quick morning fling, which had been quite nice. After that, they had to go pick up Carol's birthday cake, and to be honest, the idea of smearing icing over various parts of Eric's body to lick off was very tempting. But now, after having Carol acting the way she had been all day, it was taking a toll on him, and all he wanted was some cake. And look – two pieces were already cut, so he crept around the back of the table behind everyone, to avoid being seen by Carol, and took one of the plates.

The bakery they had ordered the cake from was new in town, and he had heard good things, so it was worth a try. But to be honest, he wasn't entirely pleased with the cake – it was decorated well enough, but there was something about the texture, this was so gritty in the middle as if someone had put a layer of sugar granules in the middle. Maybe it was some sort of new cake making style that was popular in some place that wasn't where he was; regardless, he didn't like it. But he was too interested in the icing, which was thick and sugary and melted on his tongue and he did really like icing…he continued to eat the piece – "Alright, back to it," he heard Terry whisper to Eric, and the two turned around to see Michael standing behind the table, eating

"Oh, you got yourself…" Eric started to say, but stopped when his eyes fell upon not two, but one plates with cake on them. "Where did you get that?"

"From there," Michael gestured to where the plate had been sitting next to the other one.

Eric stared at the last couple of bites that were still on Michael's plate. "Mikey, you didn't…"

Michael looked at his plate. "Did it belong to one of you three? To be honest, it's a very weird kind of cake. The icing is good – "

Terry had caught on to what was happening, and he elbowed Neil quickly; his co-worker turned around. "What?"

Terry gestured to Michael's plate. "Mike is eating Carol's piece of cake,"

"…_Oh, shit_," Neil said under his breath. "Um…Michael – "

Eric interrupted him, reaching across Terry to smack Neil's arm and shot him a look to quiet him. "Don't worry about it, Michael, go ahead and eat it. We can give her this other one,"

Michael looked concerned. "You won't tell her that I ate her piece of cake, will you?"

"No, I won't," Eric looked at him so reassuringly that Michael did relax and went on his way with his cake. "Oh, God, he ate one of the pieces with the pill in it,"

"Maybe he got the one with less powder," Terry tried to assure him.

"Honestly…" Eric looked down at the piece that was left on the table. "I don't remember which one had more and which one had less…" he bit his lip nervously. "Shit…one of two people here is going to get far too relaxed,"

Neil looked at him confused. "What kind of pills are they?'

"Remember when we went to that party awhile back and we were given those pills? And when we woke up, we were in the airport bathroom with tickets to Belarus?" Eric asked. "And I had on someone else's clothes and someone had written the word _BALLS_ on your face? And then someone else drew breasts on your – " he was going to continue describing their awakening, but Neil's look of 'shut up' made him stop. "Well, it's those pills. That pill is what is in those two slices of cake, and now Michael is eating one of them. And it could be the one with a _lot_ of pill powder in it,"

"Those pills are the 'balls on your face' pills?" Neil demanded; Eric nodded. "Why would you think of even bringing that around me? I had the worst time getting it out of my system,"

Eric turned his head away. "Well, I thought that maybe if it was just a little bit, nowhere near as much as we had, then maybe it would be okay. _Moderation is the key_. And then she came out of nowhere…oh, let's open the cake," he grabbed up the fork and carefully lifted the top part of the piece of cake, bending over slightly to look between the halves. "I can't really tell if this a little or a lot…it looks like an average amount,"

"Then I bet Michael has the one with all the powder on it," Terry said in a voice full of realization, and all three glanced in the direction of Michael, who was talking to Terry J, telling him what a lovely job he did on the speech. "How long will it take to kick in?"

"Is that my piece of cake?" Carol demanded, pointing to the piece on the plate on the table. Apparently, she didn't really care about the answer, and reached for it. Neil immediately tried to block her hand, but Carol's other hand was too fast and slapped it away, and she had the plate and fork in her grasp before he could even count to three. He blinked, and the cake was being eaten. "Hm…this cake is strange," she continued to eat it, and turned away from them.

All three were silent, anxiety across their faces as she walked away. "As I was saying…how long will it take to kick in?" Terry asked quietly.

"About fifteen minutes," Eric said, just as quietly, and they waited for it happen.

* * *

><p>The party had somewhat broken up within fifteen minutes, with everyone finding their own way to amuse themselves while Carol finally having calmed down from her getting the pills in her system. She was drinking cup of water after cup of water, talking about how thirsty she was – "And then I realized that I was so thirsty because I've been walking around all day. And that is so strange, because now I'm just so sleepy," she laughed loudly. "Good grief, I should go sit down and rest my legs. I think I might go for another walk later. Maybe I'll take a walk to Italy or something, wouldn't that be grand? Almost like milkshakes…"<p>

"Grand," Graham replied in a monotone voice, his pipe in his hand.

Thankfully, Carol had calmed down significantly from earlier. Before she had shown every mood under the sun, and now she was acting very nice and relaxed, talking to everyone about things in a sleepy manner and not being a complete lunatic. Neil wondered if maybe they could start slipping these pills into her tea every month, in light moderation of course, to keep her relaxed. And then, there was Michael, who became the touchiest, most clingy person when under the influence. It was strange that no one else had realized this before, but it was possible that they didn't due to them being high or drunk themselves. "Say, what is going on with Michael?" John asked the trio of Neil, Eric, and Terry G, who were sitting in chairs along the wall. "He's…well, he's normally quiet, but he's very strange and quiet today,"

"Um…" Eric started, but a sideways glance towards Neil and Terry interrupted his words.

"We have no idea," Terry said in a cool tone, as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with Michael. "Maybe he's had too much cake and the icing is putting him into a sugar coma?"

John made a murmuring noise of disagreement, and glanced over his shoulder to the table. "But I don't think he's had that much – oh, he's eating the cake right off the tray. You may be right about the coma,"

The three all leaned around John to look at the table. Michael was behind the table, his hands full of cake and clumps of icing, the white and pink butter cream on his face and he was eating off the tray as if there was nothing wrong with it. His eyes were closed blissfully as he ate and he was making loud eating noises, complimenting the dessert. "This is so good…do we have more? Can we go get more?" his eyes opened and he found Eric. "Can we get more cake?"

"Shit," Eric grimaced and pushed himself up out of the chair, Neil and Terry followed.

Michael grinned at all of them. "I'm sorry I ate all the cake, but it's just so good…oh it's delicious…"

"Yes, Michael, it is very good," Terry agreed, taking the tray and picking it up to dispose of it.

"Wait!" Michael's eyes widened anxiously and he reached for it, but Eric stepped between the two and took Michael by the wrists. In turn, Michael glanced at Eric's hands and he giggled. "Eric, not here – "

Both Neil and Eric looked around nervously, thinking that someone had heard that. And indeed, everyone's eyes were on them, watching the very high Michael. "Hush, Mikey. Let's go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up,"

"Mmm…" Michael smiled at Eric, twisting closer to him. "Eric, I like you…I really like you…"

Eric looked uncomfortable at the unexpected attention as he lead Michael towards the meeting room door. "Yes, Mikey, and I like you too,"

"No, I _really_ like you," Michael suddenly stopped walking, spinning around in Eric's arms to push up against him. "I don't think I've told you how much I like you. You have very pretty hair…it's soft…like animal fur…" he giggled again, trying to move his hand to Eric's head, but his lover tilted his head away from the icing covered fingers. "Sooo pretty…"

"Neil, would you help me please?" Eric gave Michael a gentle push and they continued out of the room.

Michael grinned at Neil over his shoulder. "Great, he can join in! Except I don't want to be in the middle – "

Neil groaned. "Please don't tell me that you two have discussed getting someone else involved, especially if that someone is me…what is in those pills that makes it so powerful that you relax so much?""

Eric shook his head. "I have no idea, and take no offense, but you don't really go in the category of our types,"

"None taken."

They got Michael into the bathroom, where he talked in a sleepy voice about how he thought a cup of coffee sounded great right now, to go with his cake. Carefully, they washed his hands and his face, all while he tried to lick the remaining globs of icing off his face and giggled the entire time. "That was fun. Thanks for my bath."

"You're welcome," Eric and Neil murmured.

"Shall we go back to my desk, Eric?" Michael asked cutely to Eric, reaching forward to touch his chest. "I could use a nice nap now…oh, your shirt has buttons! Those are nice buttons, they look like candy…" he gasped and his hand began to pull on one of the buttons. "Can I eat them?"

Eric put his hand between his shirt and Michael's fingers. "No, Mikey, you can't eat my buttons,"

Michael pouted. "Just a few?"

"No," Eric told him once more. "Come on, I'll take you to your desk to lie down,"

Neil opened the bathroom door and Michael started out with Eric behind him, and Neil grabbed his friend's arm as he passed. "You two better be careful. We both know what he's wanting, and you better not get caught humping on his desk,"

Eric rolled his eyes. "You really enjoy taking the fun out of everything, don't you? Anyway, he's too fucked up to know whose cock is whose and where it goes. He could be fucking my armpit and not even realize it, probably wouldn't get off,"

"But I know you would be willing to show him where your _armpit_ is, wouldn't you?"

"…Perhaps…that wouldn't make for a bad day at all, hm?"

Neil rolled his eyes as Eric and Michael walked off, Eric supporting his lover who was talking about a jacket he had that needed to be returned. "I don't know about those two some days," he told himself, and walked out into the office. And there, at the front desk, was Carol, who was seated there as if she was preparing to type up a paper; however, she was slumped over the desk, her face buried in her arms, and Neil realized that she was asleep. She had fallen fast asleep at her desk, finally letting all the PMS and the pills catch up with her. With a smile, Neil approached her desk and touched her arm to wake her up, but decided against it when he felt her cool flesh. He removed his jacket and laid it across her shoulders, wrapping her up in it, and he walked back to the meeting room.

Terry J looked up at him. "Well? She said she was tired, did she fall asleep?"

"Mhm," Neil nodded. "But you know…I just realized that she didn't make a wish."

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: This is just a warning that the story you're about to read contains mature content. It is rated so for language and strong sexuality. These are things that I feel are in everyday life and because it is in everyday life, it shouldn't be excluded from what we read. Also, I like to put these "characters" (who are actually real life people) and put them in this "everyone/most everyone is gay" universe, or the "the six members of Monty Python and their lovers are gay and sometimes they don't have wives or children" universe that I really, really like. And of course, some timelines may be a little different. This warning was written for you, the reader, to be prepared for what your eyes may seek, and thank you for taking the time to read my stories. So if you don't like it, then get the hell out of here.

Also, this story is completely one hundred percent dedicated to my muse, **kyliesmilie26**, for all of her encouragement and late night discussions. My dear – it's finally posted! :D

Sincerely, the author

* * *

><p><em>Thursday, January 26<em>_th__, 1970 –When Eric becomes sick with appendicitis, the office closes for a day to take turns monitoring his recovery._

The phone rang while Neil was getting out of the shower that morning, but he didn't think anything of it. With his girlfriend working different hours at the hospital and being on call, they were both use to the phone ringing randomly in both the late and early hours. He continued to dry off with a large gray towel and put a light coating of cologne on himself, and was towel drying his hair when his girlfriend opened the door and stuck her head in. "Eric is on the phone," she told him.

"What's he want?" Neil asked, peering at her from beneath the towel.

"I don't know. He just asked to talk to you," she shrugged and he sighed, following her back into the bedroom.

The extension was on the bedside table and he picked up the phone handle, cradling it between the side of his face and his shoulder as he continued to dry himself. "It's a bit early for phone calls,"

"Can you take me to the hospital?"

Neil paused drying his hair and lowered the towel. "Why, what's wrong?"

Eric groaned in pain. "I'm sick…there is something wrong…my side has been hurting all last the night. Lyn gave me some pills, but they didn't help...it really hurts, I can't even describe it to you…I can barely move…" he paused. "I've been getting sick all morning, and now I'm hot as fuck. Sweating – _ow_, my side!"

"Damn…" Neil looked at the clock, thinking that he needed to get dressed and go to work, but he couldn't ignore the pain of one of his closest friends. "Yeah, I'll take you. Give me a few minutes to get dressed and I'll be right over,"

There was a sigh of relief on the other end of the line, followed by a groan of pain. "Thank you so much. I owe you. Anything you want, you can have,"

"Don't worry about it. Sit tight," Neil hung up the phone and sighed quietly; another wonderful Thursday. "Eric is sick. He wants me to take him to the hospital," he told his girlfriend.

"I hope he's alright. Are you going to work after you take him?" she asked.

"I don't know," Neil replied and continued dressing in his work attire, just in case he did end up having to go in. In a way, he hoped to not have to go to the office – a day off would be nice, to come back home and lounge around watching television. There was a game on in the late afternoon that he wouldn't mind actually starting off, instead of getting the end of it. "Goodbye, dear. Have a nice day," he kissed her when he was finished dressing and left for his friend's house.

Eric and his wife lived in a small house not too far away from Neil's place. The car was parked in the driveway and Neil went up the walkway, hoping that whatever Eric had wasn't contagious and that he wouldn't catch anything – he was not at all interested in getting the stomach flu. He also wondered how many times in the past month that Michael had been there while the wife was away. "Eric?" Neil said loudly to the door as he pressed the doorbell, which gave off a short, buzzing sound.

There was the sound of someone yelling from inside, and Neil pressed the doorbell again. Someone yelled again, sounding a bit clearer the second time and it sounded like they said "Come in!" So he tried the doorknob, and the door opened as it had been left unlocked. Neil went inside and made his way through the house to the master bedroom, and he found the bed unmade and no one insight; a low groan of pain came from the bathroom to the door on the right. He could see Eric's feet, clothed in black socks, and he stepped closer to better see Eric kneeling at the toilet, his elongated hands clutching the porcelain bowl, his face pale with a shine of sweat around his forehead.

"Don't jump," Neil called out.

Eric groaned again and spat into the toilet bowl, the sound echoed lightly as a string of saliva hung from his lower lip. "I…feel…terrible," he muttered, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position and his wrist turned to allow the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. "I don't even want to get dressed…I'm going like this," he gestured to his pajamas and messy hair.

This kind of surprised Neil, as his friend was the kind of person who spent plenty of time before the mirror to get ready, no matter where he was going. But he must have been feeling _awful_ if he wasn't willing to change from his sleepwear and shower. "Come on, let's go," Neil stepped forward and slowly pulled Eric to his feet, ignoring the protests and complaints. "Let's clean up your face and go to the hospital,"

Neil turned Eric to the sink and leaned him against the counter for balance; Eric put his hands on the edge, his head bowed forward as he steadied his breathing. "My side hurts so fucking bad," he whispered. "I thought maybe…maybe it was the stomach flu. But my side never hurts like this when I have the stomach flu,"

The faucet squeaked on by Neil's hand and it brought a handful of water up to Eric's face, washing his mouth and chin. A second handful washed the rest of his face, and a third was for Eric to rinse out his mouth. "Are you okay now?" Neil asked as Eric spit the water into the drain. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's go," Eric muttered, and slowly they moved out of the bathroom.

The ride to the hospital was a stop and go process, as Neil couldn't go very fast without Eric yelling at him to slow down – he had to vomit at least three times on the way there – or he would yell at him to hurry – his side was hurting too much for him to lay down in the backseat. Finally arriving, Neil dropped him off at the entrance, parked the car, and went back into the hospital where two blondes – one a nurse, one the receptionist – were talking to Eric at the front desk. In the five minutes they had been apart, Eric had become more pale, more sweaty, more sickly looking, and Neil almost wanted to walk away to avoid catching whatever Eric had. "Just hold on, we'll get you feeling right as rain soon enough," Neil encouraged from a safe distance, then looked to the nurse that was observing his symptoms. "Did he tell you everything?"

She nodded, looking down at the chart. "Yes, I will get your partner in to see the doctor in just a moment. I'll just need you to sign a few papers, since you are the one who brought him in,"

"My partner?" Neil repeated, but she had dropped the chart in front of him on the counter ledge and was searching for a pen. "Did you tell them we were lovers?" he asked his sick friend.

Eric shook his head. "She just assumed…"

The nurse straightened back up and handed Neil a pen, and he took it to the chart and started to sign. However, the nurse's words were still on his mind and he stopped to look up at her. "Just so you know, we're not lovers,"

"That really doesn't matter now, does it?" she responded in a dry tone. "Please just sign the forms and we'll take him on back,"

With an irritated sigh, Neil signed where the X's were and handed the chart back; the nurse looked it over and nodded with approval. "Alright then, we'll get you a wheelchair – "

"Please hurry," Eric groaned, leaning against the counter with his hands on the ledge. The wheelchair was at their sides in a moment; Neil helped lower his friend into the seat. "I haven't called the office yet," Eric told Neil as the nurse turned the chair in a wide circle and they were off towards the swinging white doors. "Can you call Mr. Potter and let him know I won't be in today?"

Neil followed alongside the wheelchair. "I'll call in for you, but I'll be in the waiting room until you're done. I don't think I can go back to the boring office life with so much excitement and vomit going on here,"

Eric sighed with relief. "Thank you, my love," he winked weakly at Neil as the nurse pushed him through the double doors, which swung shut behind them.

"I'm not your lover, Eric!" Neil called after him, stopping just beyond the doors. He turned around to see there was another nurse – a redheaded one – behind him, and he blushed lightly. "We're not lovers, really…" he tried to explain, but she giggled at his embarrassment. "Um…where's the phone?"

"Right at the desk, sir, and there are payphones against that wall," she gestured to the receptionist's desk and wall, shaking her head at the lover/not lover debate and continued on her way to finish her work.

Of course, she had been the only nurse in the waiting room, so Neil reached over the ledge and pulled the phone up. He dialed the office phone number and waited for Carol to answer; leaning against the desk, Neil glanced around the waiting room, observing the other patients and he wondered why there was no secretary on duty today. Maybe she was out sick – how sweetly ironic that would be! And where were all the doctors and nurses that were constantly pacing the floors in television shows and movies? Especially that cute redheaded nurse, the one with – "Hello? _Hello_!"

The voice on the other end of the line woke him from his dazed state. "Hello? Carol? Hi, it's Neil."

* * *

><p>Someone was calling his name, and Neil looked up distractedly. There was a nurse at the doorway, not the cute redhead from before, but a pretty brunette, which also wasn't bad. "That's me," he raised his hand.<p>

The nurse waved him over. "Sir, your partner is very ill right now. He listed all of his symptoms to the nurse, and has since included a few others, and the doctor has diagnosed him with appendicitis,"

"I'd just like to clear up the idea that you all seem to have that he is my partner…because he is not," Neil said quietly.

"…Anyway, the doctor will be operating in the next couple of hours," the nurse ignored his protest.

Neil looked concerned. "Is it that serious? I thought he just had the stomach flu,"

She gave him a look, one that said the hospital staff clearly knew what they were doing and he was just a friend/partner of a patient and he didn't fully understand. "That's what the doctor ordered. Now, we don't want you to panic, because the doctor does these sorts of operations every day, quite a few in a day, in fact. We are going to prep the operating room and your partner soon,"

"He's not my partner," Neil repeated.

"Sir, it's alright if you two are in love – "

"We are _not_ in love!"

Her hands went up in defense. "Alright, alright, if you say so…but the doctor wanted me to keep you informed of what was going on,"

"Can I see him before the operation?"

The nurse paused, turning to look at the clock. "For a few minutes, I suppose,"

They went towards the large white swinging doors, passing the receptionist's desk once again. Neil thought that maybe he better call the office and keep everyone posted on what was happening with Eric, as their employer would probably like to know what was going on. "I'm going to make a phone call. If you have other things to do, go ahead and I'll find the room,"

"One of the other nurses' will take you there," she said, and dismissed herself off to work.

Neil picked up the phone and dialed the office number again, taking another glance at the nurse as she walked away. He realized that he made a mistake in not going into medical school because even though Carol was a very gorgeous woman, he wouldn't mind being surrounded by all of the beautiful nurses here. He was becoming very interested in redheads – "Oh, hi, Carol," he said when she picked up. "It's Neil again,"

"What's the word on Eric? How is he doing?" Carol asked him.

"The doctor is going to take him into surgery to remove his appendix. They're prepping now, and I'm going into the room to see him," Neil explained.

Carol gasped. "Surgery? He was just fine yesterday, why does he – _oh, poor Eric_,"

"I'm going to stay in the waiting room until it's all over, and then I'll call back and let you know what's going on," Neil continued. "So I don't want any of you worry. The nurse said they do these sorts of operations all the time, so he'll be fine,"

"If she says so…" Carol sounded worried, despite Neil's assurance. "Please call us when he's done with his operation, alright? And give him our love when you see him,"

"I will. Bye, Carol," Neil hung up the phone, then waited for the receptionist to look at him. "Can you tell me where my friend's room is? One of the nurses said I could go back before his operation."

The receptionist looked through her chart and found the room number, which she told Neil, along with easy directions to Eric's room. Off Neil went, sneaking past breakfast carts and eyeing nurses in tight attire, still wondering why he hadn't gone into the medical field – "God! That…he just kicked me!" a man came out of a room, holding his face in his hands. "Did you see that?"

Neil stepped back as the man ran down the hallway, a nurse following close behind, and he knew that it was Eric's room. With a heavy sigh, he continued to the door, where he could hear what sounded like a struggle of a body behind held down, and then some grunting and complaining, and finally an irritated whining noise. Neil looked into the room to see one doctor lying across the patient's legs on the bed holding them down, another one holding the patient's left arm stretched over their chest so he couldn't swing it about. There was a female nurse was sitting facing away from the patient, holding their long thin arm so that too couldn't flail, and another female nurse was injecting a needle into the patient's arm. Slowly, Neil moved into the room to avoid startling anyone; one of the nurses nodded her approval of his entrance. "Stand at the foot of the bed," she commanded.

So Neil stood at the foot of Eric's bed as directed, watching them hold his quivering body, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched tightly. Eric couldn't stand needles. Blood and other body fluids and various other doctor/surgeon instruments were fine, but needles were different – they made him feel sick, and he hated the sight of them in his skin, the feeling, the idea of it. Eric groaned under his breath when the needle was withdrawn, and a brief look of shame passed over him. "I hate needles," he admitted weakly.

"I know," Neil said, watching everyone slowly let go of him and step back. "I remember how when we went to a party once and they were passing around that needle, and that girl almost got you to do it. It was lucky that you that you passed out before it even touched your arm – they had his sleeve rolled up, someone tied a rubber band around him, some bloke was slapping on his arm to get the vein raised – "

Eric had shame back across his face as he glanced up at the nurse, who sighed heavily with irritation mixed in. "We hadn't even taken the needle out when he started panicking. We had six people in here just before you came in, but then he kicked the doctor we had in the nose. He was flailing so much that his side started hurting again, and it made him stop moving so we were able to get him down,"

"You do realize that what they're doing is to make you better, right?" Neil asked Eric. "They're not just injecting you with nonsense medications for the hell of it,"

"You should listen to your partner," the nurse said, cleaning up her utensils.

Before Neil could once again tell someone that him and Neil were not lovers, his friend sighed, relaxing against the sheets. "It's already working…"

They were left alone then, and Neil pulled up a chair to sit next to Eric's bed. "So you're starting to feel better now?"

"_Ohhh yes_," Eric smiled. "I don't know what it was they just stuck in me, but I want more of it. I don't care if it is with a needle,"

"Yes, I would love to see you take another needle in the arm, after what that nurse told me. Maybe if it came in pill form, or if you could smoke it," Neil replied sarcastically, and sat back in the seat. "As long as you're not nervous about being operated on,"

Eric shook his head, and noticed a loose thread in his blanket and began to pick at it. "No, I'm not…I mean, I am, but I can handle this. They'll put me to sleep and when I wake up, I'll have a nice new set of stitches and some time off of work,"

"But still, Eric, you're being cut open and someone is putting their hands _inside_ of your body. Doesn't that make you nervous at all?"

"…Maybe a little…but I have to do this, or it could explode and I'll get even more sick and I could die," he paused. "Fuck. Don't tell Michael I said that, he doesn't need to worry about me. Tell him I'm fine,"

Neil paused. "I already called and told Carol about your surgery,"

Eric's head dropped to his chest and he groaned. "_Fuck_. He'll find out from her,"

"But I'm sure he'll be fine, he won't worry. Michael knows this will make you better," Neil tried to assure him. "Trust me. I had my tonsils taken out when I was fourteen, which is worse because the stitches are on the _inside_ of your body. You can't even see them, but they're fine, and you'll be fine,"

Eric looked away for a moment, swallowed nervously, then looked back at Neil. "No, he will worry. He worries the way you were talking a few moments ago," Eric replied. "That's why I said don't tell him,"

"Well, what is he going to do? Come down here and assist in the surgery to make sure everything is alright?"

His friend gave him a disgruntled look, then shook his head. "Call him when the doctor takes me back, tell him I'm fine and that he doesn't need to worry,"

The disgruntled look was returned. "What about Lyn? Don't you want me to call her and tell her that you're getting ready to go under the knife?" he paused. "She is your wife, you know,"

"She's up north for the week, visiting her sister," Eric said. "If you would…please call her. The number is in my jacket pocket,"

"I will. Not that you're worried about it," Neil continued. "I bet you're thrilled with the idea of some time off work. Not the circumstances, but the idea of not having to wear a suit and tie, getting to lounge in bed and watch television and sleep all day, and taking all kinds of pain medications to numb your pain…I have to admit I'm jealous,"

"We'll see how jealous you are when I come out with a scar the size of a loaf of bread on my side," Eric paused to envision the loaf of bread. "Mmm bread…_toast_. Oh, toast sounds so good now…"

"It won't be the size of a _loaf of bread_," Neil rolled his eyes. "Carol says everyone in the office sends their love, by the way,"

Eric giggled. "She does, hm? Maybe I will take her love…"

"You're getting enough love, you don't need anymore," Neil replied.

"Love, love, love, love…" Eric closed his eyes, pressing back against his pillow. "_Mmm_…love…_say_…" he gestured to the border on the wallpaper. "Are those fish? Shit, they're swimming away into the coral…I wonder where the fish are going…they're so pretty…"

As he continued talking, Neil began to wish it was him needing the medication, because it sounded like Eric was having quite a lovely time. He could only imagine how lovely of a time he would be having while dreaming during the operation, under the influence of his even stronger medications.

* * *

><p>After talking for some time, a nurse came into the room and told Neil that he needed to leave 'his partner'. "He is not my partner," Neil repeated as he stood up from his chair and pushed it back where it had been before. "We're just friends. That's all we are, and that's all we'll ever be,"<p>

"_Why_, Neil? _Why_ would you say that to me just before I go under the knife?" Eric feigned shock. "Don't forget to call the office, and Lyn. The phone number is in my jacket pocket,"

Neil picked up Eric's jacket off the back of the chair and dug into his pocket, finding a piece of white paper with a phone number on it. "I'll call everyone when I get back to the waiting room," Neil went for the door, but paused and looked over his shoulder. His friend, not partner, was still sitting upright, his hands placed at his sides and he was watching Neil. Thankfully, he didn't look nervous anymore, but that didn't mean he wasn't hiding it. "I'll be in the waiting room the whole time, okay?" he went back to the bed and leaned over to give Eric an assuring hug, which hadn't been shared since Neil's family put down their dog.

Eric returned the hug, letting his hand hold Neil's in one last squeeze, telling him that he was okay. "Thanks, Neil…I'll see you in a few hours."

Back in the waiting room, Neil searched for a pay phone so he wouldn't have to keep bothering the receptionist. He put the change from his pocket into the coin slot, then dialed Lyn's sister's phone number. The family wasn't home, but the housekeeper took a message; Neil then put in more change and called the office. He then realized he wasn't sure how long the operation would take, or when exactly Eric was going in. And then he thought about how he was going to have to be transferred to Michael's phone and talk to him, and talk to him the way that Eric wanted him too. " – _call back tomorrow anytime from nine to five, we'll be happy to assist you in any way possible. Thank you_."

"Huh?" Neil said to himself. That had to have been the wrong number; the office didn't have an answering machine, as far as he knew. He hung up the phone and put change back in, and dialed the office number. There was no way that he would have needed to call back tomorrow anytime from nine to five, the office always had someone to answer the phone. Why was Carol away from the phone?

" – _we're sorry that we are not able to take your phone call right now, as the office is closed. We're awaiting an operation of one of our employees right now. If you will call us back tomorrow anytime from nine to five, we'll be happy to assist you in any way possible. Thank you_."

An operation? What operation where they awaiting? Neil hung up the phone, trying to understand the message, and then he realized… "Oh, shit," he muttered. "Did they close down because of Eric?"

"Neil!"

He turned around and sighed, not sure whether to be pissed off or thrilled to see his co-workers, hurrying towards him with flowers and balloons in their arms. "What are you all doing here?" he asked them, shock still rushing over him. "Why aren't you all at the office?"

Carol laughed at his words, as if he had asked that stupid question that supposedly doesn't exist. "Well, silly, we couldn't possibly stay at the office all day while Eric was being operated on, so we closed down our floor, went to a gift shop, and here we are,"

"Does Mr. Potter know?" Neil asked; she shrugged. "So you all took the initiative to close down the office for the whole day without letting the boss know, leave work without telling _anyone_, and taking a trip downtown to stand guard while one of your co-workers has an operation to remove his appendix?"

There was a pause as everyone considered his words, thinking of the plan he had described. "Well, that sounds about right," Terry G agreed.

Neil rolled his eyes. "Good grief. I don't even know how long the operation is going to take. We could be here literally all day,"

"What, just to remove an appendix?" Graham asked. "It won't be all day. I had done some medical studying before going into the wonderful world of office careers, and it doesn't take all day,"

"How is Eric…by the way?" Michael's voice was quiet from next to Carol.

It was easy for Neil to see that Michael was as Eric claimed – nervous, anxious, worried, whatever word one would describe someone on the edge. "He's fine," Neil told him, trying to sound reassuring without giving away that earlier that day, he had seen Eric in the worst pain he had ever felt.

"Come on, let's go sit down. This plant is heavy," Terry J said of the large plant that was behind held between him and John.

They moved away to the chairs in the waiting room and Neil went to follow, except Michael hadn't moved. He stood there with his eyes at his feet, holding his own small potted plant in his hands, taking slow, tiny breaths to keep himself calm. "Michael?" Neil paused.

Michael turned his head slightly, for his gaze to look away. "Is he really okay?"

"Yeah, he's really okay, Mike," Neil said.

"When did this happen? Why didn't he call me?" Michael looked to Neil then.

"Eric didn't call you because he could barely get off the bathroom floor. He could hardly talk to _me_ when he called for a ride here. They gave him something to help take the edge off, he's feeling so good now that a sixteen ton weight could fall on him and he wouldn't even notice," Neil explained. "They'll do the operation and then I'm sure we can go in his room and see him afterwards. Just be patient,"

"I'm – " Michael turned to make sure their friends weren't close, then glanced back at Neil. "I'm just worried. Don't I have that right? He and I are just more than friends and co-workers, we're…we're lovers,"

"Good, then you can tell all the nurses and doctors that so they stop thinking _I_ am his lover," Neil said. "Come on now, stop worrying and let's go sit with everyone and wait. And when the operation is over, you can go sit with _your_ _lover_ and all will be well,"

He put a gentle arm around Michael to console, to guide his friend to the seats. "I guess you're right. There's nothing else we can do, but wait…you really think everything go well?"

Neil patted Michael's back in reassurance as they reached their friends, and they sat down to wait. "You said you don't know when they're taking him in for his operation, right Neil?" John asked.

"The nurse gave him something to make him stop feeling so shitty, so they'll probably do it soon,"

"Did they have to tie him down?" Terry J asked, grinning at the knowledge of Eric and his disliking of needles. "You know how he gets with needles,"

"It was something like that," Neil smirked at the image of Eric with nurses holding him down on the hospital bed, the other one shooting him up full of medication, listening to the harsh impatient breathing that was able to squeeze through his nose, the image of his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth were grinding. "Very amusing,"

Terry sighed, making a tsking noise. "I always miss all the good things."

* * *

><p>The hours were passing by so slowly. The group was slouched in their chairs, a game of cards was being played on the floor between Graham and Terry J. It was after noon when Terry G's stomach began to growl. "I'm hungry," he announced, sitting up in his chair and stretching his arms over his head. "Do you suppose they have food around here? Like a sandwich cart or something?"<p>

"I think they have vending machines around here," Graham replied and put his hand of cards in the pile. "Let's go look, I'm getting hungry too. I left my lunch at the office…not that I really wanted that sandwich anyway,"

"Oh, come on, we're almost done," Terry J complained; his words fell on deaf ears and he threw his hand in too. "And I was winning – I know I was!"

The two stood up and left the waiting room, in search of snacks. "Wait up," John said from behind them, walking quickly to catch up. "I might as well come with you. I'm sure you'll find all the good things and keep them for yourselves,"

Graham nodded in agreement. "Of course. We're going to fill our pockets and sell them to patients for three times the amount,"

"Always looking for a way to take money from everyone else, aren't you?" Terry asked. "Where the hell would they keep all the machines?"

"Probably in a closet with the other ones. Isn't that where most places have them?"

"In a closet?"

"Not really a closet, but a small room, some sort of snack room,"

"…_A snack room_?"

The three continued on their search for vending machines, and they finally located a set of two in the corner. "Yes!" Terry cheered and was the first to reach the machines, and began to dig through his pockets for money. "I'm so thirsty – hey!"

He was pushed back by John, who already had the correct amount of change in his hand. "The tallest one goes first," he told Terry, and pushed coins into the coin slot, and the drink of his choice was dispensed. "You next, Graham,"

"Oh, come on," Terry groaned, but Graham was putting his money into the machine and getting his drink. "You know, it's really not fair to me, and it's not my fault I'm not as tall as either of you. I can't be held responsible for the height part of my genetics, or any part of my genetics, for that matter,"

"Then you can blame your parents for being thirsty," John teased, opening his drink.

Terry put the money into the machine and waited for his to drop down…nothing. "What the hell?" he muttered, kicking the machine lightly…still nothing. "Shit," he complained, sending a glare to John and Graham. "Well, this is entirely your fault, you fucks,"

"Our fault?" Graham repeated. "Oh, no, it's completely John's fault. I can't be held responsible for this at all,"

"_I can't be held responsible_…" Terry mocked him in a whining voice, turning back to the machine. "And of course there's no one around…"

"Well, just go ahead and stick your arm in there and get your drink," John told him, and Terry looked at him strangely. "Go ahead, we don't have all day,"

Terry shook his head. "John, I can't stick my arm in there, it won't fit,"

"Do it," Graham joined in, a grin on his face. "Come on, Terry, I dare you,"

"You dare me, Graham? Are we children? You _dare_ me?"

"I double dare you," Graham continued, looking to John for encouragement. "I double dare you to put your arm in the vending machine. You have skinny enough limbs, it will fit,"

Once again, Terry started to protest, but John interrupted. "I triple dog dare you,"

Graham gasped – a triple dog dare! That was the most important of dares, the level of importance that couldn't be ignored and if it was ignored, then one was to be belittled until they had withered away to nothing. And Terry was not about to be belittled away to nothing by John. "…Ah, fuck it. I put my money in, I'm getting it."

And with that, he knelt down on the floor and started to stick his hand into the slot. There was nothing for him to find right there in the opening, so he continued pushing his hand upward. A smirk was growing on John's face, as he was thinking something dirty. "I was going to suggest that you lube up your hand, Terry, but she seems to be very loose,"

Another glare from Terry was sent to John. "Oh, shut it," he kept pushing his arm in.

"You know, Terry, I once read an article in the paper about a man who had to get his arm cut off at the shoulder because it got stuck in one of these vending machines," Graham continued the teasing. "It was at an office, and the same thing happened, like you. And they had to call the fire brigade to come in and they had to cut his arm with an axe,"

"You're just trying to scare me," Terry replied, his face twisting with concentration as he continued moving his arm in the machine; his tongue sticking slightly out of the corner of his mouth. "Almost there…"

John shook his head. "No, I think I read that too. And now he can't do anything anymore because he only has one arm,"

"Will you two just shut up? Oh!" Terry's face lit up. "I got it! See? I didn't get my arm stuck," he started to withdraw his arm. "No problems, none at all. And you insisted upon making me wait for my drink…if this had happened to one of you two, you wouldn't be able to even stick your great big arms in here,"

"Because I would really want to stick my arm into a vending machine when I could stick it in some man's very cute – " Graham started to say.

However, John knew where the sentence was going and cut him off quickly. "Nevertheless, we have our drinks and you don't have yours,"

"Because we are taller, and we are better," Graham said.

"That's right," John agreed.

Terry cleared his throat. "Hey…you guys…" he paused, looking a little uncomfortable. "Um…my arm…it might be stuck…" he rolled his shoulder a little, as if twisting his arm, and the expression of pain stretched more. "Yes, my arm is stuck in the vending machine,"

Both tall men looked down at him. "Your arm is stuck in the vending machine? It's really stuck?" Graham asked.

"Yes," Terry nodded from down on the floor. "And it's hurting. _Oh_ – " he winced. "It's _really_ hurting,"

"You are joking, aren't you?" John asked.

Terry shook his head. "I wouldn't joke about this,"

Both men continued looking down at him, the confusion turned into shock. "Oh shit," John said under his breath. "Um…okay…Graham, we have to go find someone…"

"Yeah, we'll go get help," Graham agreed.

"No, wait!" Terry looked up at them with fear in his eyes. "One of you should stay here with me!"

John and Graham looked at each other, then back at Terry and they both shook their heads. "No, we should both go look for help," Graham gestured down the hallway. "You go that way, I'll go the other way,"

"Agreed. Here, Terry, drink this, I know you're thirsty," John handed his drink off to Terry.

"Wait! John! Graham! Don't go!" Terry protested, but both men took off in opposite directions, leaving him with his right arm shoved up into a vending machine, an opened drink in his free hand and a growing pain in his arm. "You guys, come back! Ow, my arm!" he groaned. "_Oh,_ shit!"

* * *

><p>Sometime later, the card game had continued between Neil, Terry J, and Michael while the waiting room was starting to empty out. "Well, this just might be the most exciting day since I started working at the office," Neil said to Carol, who was reading a magazine next to him. "I wonder who is getting Eric's clients while he's away,"<p>

"I'm sure he'll keep them," she replied, crossing her legs at the thighs. "We can just take his information home and work from his room,"

"Yes, we could take all of his folders and paperwork, the books and files and phone numbers to his house for him to work on. But if you were out with appendicitis, Carol, would you really want to be working from home?" Neil asked her, not looking at her eyes but the tiny, almost invisible dusting of freckles on her cheeks and nose. They were so damn cute he could hardly stand it –

"Well, I suppose not, even though I don't have a lot to do anyway…" Carol replied, turning the magazine page and looked at an article about Twiggy; there was a full page picture of the model. "What do you think? How would I look with a haircut like hers?" she showed the picture to Neil, looking at him curiously.

He really couldn't say what he thought, because if he did, she would slap him for being inappropriate; he thought she would look positively hot as hell with her hair cut like Twiggy's. "Um…you would…you would look…great…" he finally said, quietly under his breath.

Thankfully, Terry J saved him. "Say, Neil," Terry elbowed him on the other side, gesturing with his other hand to the doorway. "That nurse is calling you,"

His eyes went to the swinging doors, where the redhead was looking at him; he smiled. "Me?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, you," she motioned for him to come closer. Neil stood up and started walking over to her, not realizing that everyone else had stood up too and were following him over to the nurse. "You know I'm just going to come back and tell you all what she says, right?" Neil asked everyone.

"Well, why wait? Why not find out ourselves?" Carol asked.

"Very true," Neil accepted the answer; they reached the door. "Yes ma'am?"

The redheaded nurse smiled cheerfully at him. "I just wanted to let you know that your partner is out of surgery, and he is in recovery. He is in the process of waking up, and he keeps asking for someone. I'm sure it's you,"

A sigh of relief washed over the group, followed by "He's alright!" "He's going to be okay." "Oh, I was so worried. I don't know what I would do if I lost one of you boys." "Do you think he'll come back to work soon?"

"He won't be coming back to work anytime soon," the nurse told them. "He's going to need plenty of rest at home and lots of help, which I'm sure you can give to him. Just make sure that he doesn't do anything strenuous that will pull out his stitches,"

Neil wanted so badly to look at Michael, to give him _the look_, but he had to keep his eyes forward and not give anything away. "Oh, we'll make sure he is very well taken care of," Neil assured her.

"Can we go see him, since he's waking up?" John asked.

"We allow only two at a time. Would you like me to take you back?"

"Neil, you go ahead, since he's asking for you," Graham told him. "We'll wait out here for our turns."

"Okay," Neil agreed, as it did make sense for Neil to go first. "Here," he took the piece of paper from his pocket and held it out to his co-workers. "Will one of you call his wife and let her know that he's out of surgery and he's fine?"

"Sure," Carol took the paper. "I'll call her for you."

In Neil's mind, it made sense for Michael to go with him. He gestured for his friend to go with, and the redheaded nurse led them back to the recovery room. "Are you going to be okay?" Neil asked Michael quietly as they walked.

Michael nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine. He's out of the operating room, he's okay, the doctor will give him all sorts of medications, he can go home in a few days, and he'll come back to work and everything will be normal. That's all I was worried about,"

"Are you _sure_?" Neil asked; again, Michael nodded. "I'm sure he's feeling very good with the anesthetics they gave him for the operation. Maybe we can steal some before we leave…"

The nurse paused outside the room and knocked on the door, looking in to see if a doctor was there. "Go ahead, gentlemen. Just be careful with him, the stitches are fresh,"

She left them alone, and they went into Eric's room. The curtains in the window were open, allowing bright afternoon sun to cast across the floor. There blankets were pulled up to his chest, his arms crossed over the top, and he was lying awake with his eyes glancing through the glass. Michael inhaled deeply, his sign of acceptance of Eric's condition, and it alerted the patient of his visitors. "Well, what are you doing standing in the doorway?" he asked them in a slow, lazy voice.

"Just watching you," Michael replied quietly, not realizing that he was stepping closer. "Are you okay?"

"I'm better now," Eric told him, stretching slightly but he winced at the pull of stitches. "Ouch! I hate this…but they have me some wonderful medication when they brought me in here. I feel as light as a feather, not just in my head but my whole body,"

Neil couldn't help but laugh at the idea – he hadn't felt like that in quite awhile. There hadn't been a weed for him to smoke in years that made him feel so calm and relaxed. "How astounding that must be. Everyone will be glad to hear you're feeling so great,"

"Everyone? Do you mean everyone in the office? When did you all get here?" Eric searched for a clock in the room. "What time is it?"

An answer started to come out of Neil, but Michael continued to step closer to the bed. "We've been here since you went in for the operation. We closed down our floor just to be here for you,"

Eric bit his lip to try and hide his pleased smile. "The whole floor? Oh, I bet Mr. Potter wasn't too pleased with that idea," he paused. "Were you all worried?"

"I was," Michael's voice was a whisper as he reached the bed. His hand grazed over the frame, moving closer to Eric's foot, and his fingers traced the toes under the blanket. "But you're fine, and I'm glad you're fine – " his fingers skated up Eric's leg, circling his knee before continuing up the thigh. " – and I'm going to sit with you for the rest of the day. I'll even call off work tomorrow to sit with you,"

"Mikey, you don't have to," Eric tried to tell him, but Michael sat on the bed next to him and he took his lover's hand in his, holding it to his mouth.

Neil could see where this was going, and although he wanted to make sure his friend was alright, it was obvious that Michael had everything under control. "Well, I think I'll be taking my leave now," he said, to no one in particular. "Um…I'll be out in the waiting room…Mike, when you're done, come on out…two more will come in…"

He closed the door behind him when he left, glancing up and down the hallway for anyone that might be coming in. It was easy for him to decide that he needed to stand guard over his two friends, while Michael kissed Eric's hands, and then let them go for his own hand to open Eric's robe. His eyes crossed over the new set of stitches on his lover's body, his fingertips reached and touched as gently as possible; Eric's eyes closed and he winced at the sensitivity. "Sorry," Michael whispered.

"Its fine," Eric's eyes squeezed slightly before opening, and he let a smile rest on his face. "I'm just fine,"

"You need a kiss," Michael decided, and he scooted down the bed so when he leaned forward, his mouth lined up with the stitches. With as much sensitivity as Eric had shown a moment before, Michael kissed the stitches…and then his mouth moved to the middle of Eric's stomach, and down…

In the hallway, Neil was leaning against the wall next to the door, growing bored with the passing minutes. He needed to find something to do to distract him, and the chosen activity was to count how many times the cute girl at the nurse's station reached down to scratch her long thin calf. He was at eight, thinking that maybe she had eczema, when suddenly, Terry J was at his side. "Hey, Neil," he greeted his co-worker. "Um…I just wanted you to know that Carol called Lyn and the sister answered and said that Lyn is on her way here,"

"What?" Neil asked.

"Yes, she got the message the message you left this morning, and she got on the next train out. She should be here soon," Terry said.

"Thanks, Terry," Neil said. As Terry left, he didn't realize that the tone of Neil's voice wasn't really gratitude, but concern – the wife of the patient, the one in the room receiving something dirty from the other man in the room, was on her way here. And who knew how long it would take for her to get there? They didn't even know when she had left, she could be here at any moment! "Fuck," Neil muttered, and waited for Terry to disappear around the corner before he pressed himself against the door to open it a crack, trying to hide the space between the wooden rectangle and the doorframe. "Mike! Eric!" he whispered loudly.

There was a pause, and Neil was sure he could hear the sound of licking…and sucking – "Hm?" Eric's voice replied, sounding very soft and very calm.

_Oh God_, Neil grimaced. "You two better hurry up whatever you're doing, because your wife is on her way here,"

"How much time do we have?" Eric asked, and it was followed up by a deep sigh and a moan.

"I don't know, but you better make it fast – "

That was when a woman's voice was calling to Neil from down the hallway. Apparently, Eric heard and recognized it too, because Neil could hear him swear in shock and then, Michael was coughing…although it might have been something else. But it didn't matter, because Neil turned his eyes to look towards the voice, and saw that it was Lyn. Of course it would be here – they were talking about her, why wouldn't she show up when they were talking about her? "Neil!" she waved to him as she got closer, and threw her arms around him when she reached the door. "Oh my God! I got your message and took the next train out. Is he okay?"

Neil found himself entangled in her arms, like an octopus capturing its lunch. "He's fine, Lyn," he managed to find his way out of her grasp and pushed himself back against the door, hoping that the sound of his back hitting the wood was able to alert the two lovers inside of the limited amount of time they had. "He's in the room with Michael now, he's resting,"

"Well, what are you doing out here?" Lyn reached past Neil for the doorknob, but he hadn't moved from his guard spot. "Will you please move? I'd like to go in there and see my husband," she shoved her hand past Neil and turned the doorknob. "Eric?" she made her way in.

Quickly, Neil followed, waiting for Lyn to scream when she found the lovers in the hospital bed, but there wasn't anything. He looked in to see it looked as it had before, nothing completely out of place, with Eric still under the covers in bed, and Michael standing in the corner…his lips were sealed tightly, as if holding something in his mouth. Michael looked to Neil, and his throat moved as he swallowed something. "Feeling better, Eric?" Neil asked, his eyes still on Michael, not sure if he really believe what he had just seen.

"Yes…yes I am," Eric winked at him, out of the eyesight of his wife, and then turned to her. "How was the train, dear?"

Neil gestured for Michael to follow him. "We'll leave you two alone now," he said to Eric and Lyn as he ushered Michael out, closing the door loudly behind them. Michael was already shuffling down the hallway, not waiting for Neil and he kept his eyes to the floor. "Mike, wait up," Neil called after him. Michael slowed his speed, but he was still clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "Sorry about that,"

Michael sighed. "It's alright. I should have expected that…now I just have to wait for him to come back to the office to feel completely normal,"

He looked so depressed, and Neil slung his arm over Michael's shoulders to comfort him. "And he'll be back before you know it. It won't be much longer than a couple of weeks before he's back at his desk. You don't need to worry about it for a moment,"

"I won't," Michael said, and the silent walking continued.

Back in the waiting room, everyone was still slouched in their chairs, looking as bored as possible and a couple even looked as though they were falling asleep; John did appear to be asleep. "I suppose we can all go home now, since Lyn is here," Neil said to the group.

"Good," John muttered, his eyes opening slowly. "I can go home now and fall asleep in my own chair at home. My big, comfortable, chair in front of the television,"

"That sounds fantastic," Graham agreed.

And so they all stood up from the uncomfortable hospital waiting room chairs, stretching their backs and limbs from sleep. As they moved from the chairs, two men in white shirts and blue overalls walked by, carrying handheld tools and a tool box. "Honestly, I can't believe that an adult man would really stick his arm in the vending machine," one of them said. "Broke his arm anyway, serves him right,"

"You think that they would understand they aren't supposed to do that," the other replied. "And then we had to break open the case to get his arm out so they wouldn't have to saw it off. In my opinion, they should have anyway."

They continued on, complaining the whole way. It was then that Neil, who was at the back of the group, noticed something – "Hey," he said, and everyone looked over their shoulders at him. "Where did Terry go?"

John and Graham looked at each other. "Um…" they both muttered.

A stretcher was being pushed through the waiting room then, and on it was Terry G, holding his broken arm across his chest, groaning in pain. "My arm…they made me put my arm in there…" he was saying as he was being wheeled through the room, and his sounds could be heard as he was pushed through the swinging doors. And everyone's eyes turned to look at Graham and John, who looked at each other, then continued walking out.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**To be honest, I wasn't able to research 'vending machines on the 1970s' very well. But I tried, and found jackshit. So I made up stuff. Deal with it : )**


End file.
